


GTA V: The Airman

by CharalampidisGruber



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Trevor Philips - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:32:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 107,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharalampidisGruber/pseuds/CharalampidisGruber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Airman Trevor Philips stumbles into her life, she knows it will only lead to disaster. Going against her instincts, she allows the twisted romance to blossom. As her addiction to him grows, she becomes more desperate to dodge the inevitable end to their love affair. ( This is an AU, dealing with Trevor in the US Air Force. It was inspired by a piece of artwork I found.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the first page of our story

I am too old for this bullshit. I look around this cesspool of a bar at the gathering throng of obnoxious, pathetic people stuffed into clothes that are ill-fitting and unflattering. I feel like a homeless person that's wandered into a restaurant to try and spend the five dollars I earned begging on a decent meal. I wish that were the case. Its speed dating night at the local tavern and why I bothered to drag my sorry ass here is a mystery. My friend, Kimmy, gave me the pamphlet and insisted in her bubbly voice that it was worth my time. Christ, the only thing I have in common with Kimmy is I'm too fucking old to hang out with anyone else in my college class. I tried school on and off again just so I can stay under my aunt's roof without having to pay rent. In all honesty, I shouldn't be wasting my time trying to find a boyfriend, especially in this forced artificial situation. I am already disgusted with every human being in this bar.

All these women with their painted faces, glittering adornments and skin tight dresses make me look like a rundown cat lady. I feel left out, awkward, sticking out in the wrong way, but I know if I bothered to put an effort into my appearance I'd be feeling even more awkward. The emcee claps his hands crisply with a perfect glistening smile on his face. I can barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. They all laugh at his shitty jokes and my face remains expressionless. I must look like the fucking queen of animosity to them. He explains the rules and all I fucking hear is a bunch of bullshit steadily streaming out of his mouth. Fuck this, Kimmy. Why do I ever listen to the shit that comes out of your mouth? Kimmy has that classic kind of pretty face that gets boring. She has beautiful golden curls that fall down to her mid back and honey colored skin. I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I don't see why she has to resort to shit like this. Kimmy grew up on a farm in the middle of fucking nowhere and has twenty siblings. Her father home schooled them all and she didn't start college until she was twenty-one because she was so scared to leave home. She has the social skills of a rotting possum.

I take my seat at one of the cramped tables. They tried to drape a tacky red cloth on the folding table to make it appear classier than it is. A fake flower is sticking out of the plastic vase and the wretched scented candle does nothing to enhance the mood. Candidate number one sits across from me. The emcee declares he's setting the timer and I realize a whole new level of hell has begun. He looks old enough to be my shithole of a father but, slightly less greasy though. My cold stare instantly turns the situation into an awkward disaster. He cracks some bad jokes, mentions a bitter divorce and I'm over it. How many more fucking minutes are left with this garbage sack?

Every time we change places I feel like I'm looking at the same idiot. Nothing special just the same kind of stupid with a different face. Everyone seems so caught up in gushing about themselves that I'm the only one to notice the late arrival. I thought I was a hot mess but this fucker takes the cake. He's tall with lean muscles and a nasty look on his face. He's got a disheveled Air Force uniform on. I'm not surprised to see someone from the base, its right nearby. His face is made up of sharp angles and a stern brow. A jagged scar flicks up from his upper lip and another across his right brow. The emcee seems angry but, the airman waves them away and his eyes dart around the room until they lock on me. I haven't really been paying attention to the fat fuck who is rambling on about his brilliant accounting career.

I watch the airman swagger over to me, he walks with a purpose that no one else in the room comes close to possessing. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued. He gives me a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I don't quite understand. He hovers over our table and the fat accountant seems to be confused.

"Hey, lardo," He barks.

His voice is sharp and gravely, and it sends a chill down my spine.

"You're in my chair," he finishes.

The accountant's jaw drops and he looks to me for support but my expression is frozen.

"Get the fuck out of my chair," the airman presses.

"I'm going to complain, this is against the rules!" The accountant wheezes.

The toad barely scrambles out of the chair before the airman pulls it out and slides onto the ripping seat cushion. He casts a shadow over the table, and up this close I can see a strange quality to his brown eyes. There's a fire in him. He looks young but, something in his features is still worn-out like he's seen a boat load of shit. I can't hold that against him, I've seen shit too. I'm a fucking mess. The brown hair on his head doesn't seem to follow regs, and I see a receding hairline barely coming to life on his forehead.

"So…Airman Philips," I say dryly.

"What? How do you know my fucking name?" He hisses.

I gesture to the patch on his uniform with his name. He tugs at his shirt with those thick hands and examines the green patch. He lets out a snort and shakes his head.

"Don't call me Airman, I'm not on fucking duty and you're not a goddamn officer." He snaps.

"Works for me," I say.

I have no fucking clue how I can play it cool with people like this. On the outside I can make it look like I have my shit together but on the inside I'm a jumbled mass of nerves and seething hatred. He's rude, but I am too. I'm just better at hiding it. He runs his fingers through his hair and the timer goes off. Everyone shuffles along and a pathetic looking man tries to take Philips' place. After a cold glare, he moves on.

"So…T. Philips," It sounds so fucking awkward to say that but he didn't bother to give me his name. "You don't seem to get the rules of this."

His left eyebrow twitches. I can't decide if my statement bothers him or if it's just a tick.

"Trevor," he says.

He doesn't look like a Trevor. I don't give a fuck if the name suits him though.

"Well, Trevor, you didn't give twiggy or porky a chance to try and open the gates to my rank vagina, that's breaking the rules." I say.

He smirks and I feel my heart flutter. He has a crooked smile. Fuck, he seems just like every other shithead I've dated but, something in him is different. There's a spark. He quickly glances over the room again and shrugs.

"These other bitches just aren't my type," He explains.

His voice seems to soften slightly with that statement. Oh fuck, does he like me? Why does that notion excite me already?

"I'm your type then?" I tease.

I don't honestly know where I learned how to flirt. I always was awkward as fuck when I was a kid, I got bullied by bitches then those same bitches tried to give me a makeover. I could never pick up boys when I was a kid. But now that I'm a woman-shit, watch your man, I'll snatch that shit up. I know how to play the game when I want to.

"Maybe you are," Trevor says.

I let a small smile slip.

"I've been bored all night, Trevor, but not right now." I add.

He's very twitchy, which makes it hard for me to read him. I don't like that. I fucking hate when I can't read people but, at the same time I find it incredibly intriguing in a man. My history with men like this hasn't panned out well. Any man I couldn't read, couldn't pull the strings, it never worked out and I always cared for them the most.

"So what do you do?" He asks.

The way he presents it is awkward, like he knows it's a standard question to ask but he doesn't want to ask it.

"I mooch off my aunt," I say. "I fuck around at college on occasion too."

"You look too old for school," He says.

His bluntness is refreshing.

"I am," I admit. "But a lady never tells her age."

He gets a kick out of that. The laugh seems to be fake it's so enthusiastic. It's like someone gave him the shittiest dating tips in the world before he came here.

"I didn't bother with school. It's just bullshit. It's boring. There's no excitement, there's not that thrill ya know? Just books and bitches with tight assholes." He says.

Trevor is loud when he speaks, he's drawing the attention of the others and I don't feel a bit of embarrassment. You all fucking suck.

"The Force has a lot of tight assholes too," I add. "If you shoved some coal up an officer's ass a fucking diamond would come out wouldn't it?"

Hot piss he likes that one, his laugh is so loud the room goes silent for a second and I can feel their stares boring in to us.

"Fuck yes! They're a bunch of pricks, they just don't get it." He explains. "I'm in the pilot program, ya know, fuck the only time I feel good is when I'm strapped in and fucking eighteen thousand feet in the air. No one appreciates my fucking talent, my passion-those fucks!"

He slams his fist on the table and the shitty vase falls over.

"Loosen up your asshole, Trevor," I tease. "You're not at work, remember?"

The timer goes off again. The next guy is smart enough to just walk out of the bar entirely. His night isn't going well. Another evening to be spent alone with his steady: Rosey Palmer. Trevor is still seething and I watch his knuckles turn white as he clenches his hand. My aunt told me to look at a man's hands on the first date. It's the best indicator of his hidden assets. Trevor's aren't bad.

"Fuck 'em," Trevor huffs.

I see an opportunity to seize. I'm miserable and I might hate myself in the morning but, I want the chance to say I screwed a hot soldier at least once in my miserable fucking ball sack of a life.

"Fuck them?" I say. "What about me?"

I was hoping to catch him off guard but he doesn't seem surprised, more pleased.

"Well thank Christ, I'd thought we'd have to dance around with a fuck load more of this mamby pamby bullshit before we got to this part." Trevor says.

I chuckle. Fuck, he actually made me laugh? I can't remember the last time I genuinely found someone funny. Normally, I just laugh because I despise people so much but, this guy? Fuck, I like him.

"Your place?" I press. "Unless you have a roommate..."

He grins and he has no idea the way that his face lights up when he does it. Shit, I'd let him do it right fucking here if I didn't know how dirty this table cloth was. I get up from the table and he follows. The emcee tries to wave us down but, we just push our way through the swaying front doors. It's sticky outside. It's just like every other summer night in North Yankton. There's a sky full of thick clouds and the air is heavy. It'll storm tonight by the looks of it.

"I've never been on base," I admit as he guides me to his shitty car.

"There's not much to see," Trevor says. "They got some fucking beautiful jets on display to show off to our families and shit."

I don't expect him to open the door for me, so when he does it makes my heart flip like a fucking little girl's.

"So, what about the plane you fly, Trevor?" I ask. "Is it impressive?"

He cracks that same grin again and I'm done. I can't pounce on him now, as much as I want to, I have to play it cool if I want this to turn out to be more than a hook up. I want to punch myself for thinking that. I barely know the guy and I already want more? I was letting myself slip into something bad again. But my brain kept producing these intrusive thoughts that he was different. He was weird, like me.

I'm surprised at how easily the conversation flows as he races down the road back to the base. He drives like a madman and I love it. I feel like I'm eighteen again and I realize how long it's been since I've felt this way. He doesn't shift gears with any finesse and the car jerks every time, making me slam my head back against the car seat. He makes me laugh and when he laughs I feel butterflies in my stomach. I'm still playing the game but it's getting harder for me. He's breaking down that wall that I've spent so many years building up.

I can see the bright lights of the base's main gate on the horizon. I slip my hand across his thigh. It's hard with thick muscles and the rough fabric of his uniform makes my fingertips tingle. The way he gazes at me turns my legs to jelly. He's not fucking around anymore. Neither am I. I want this. I want this weird Airman to make me feel special like one of those airheaded bitches at the bar gets to feel every day of their fucking life.

He flashes his ID for the guard and they let him in. I wish to god he had an automatic now. I wish he could have that hand free just so I could feel the sensation of his fingertips on my skin. He pulls into a space in front of the hideous looking apartments. This place looks like a prison, not an on base residence. He doesn't get out of the car right away. For a split second, as he gazes out the windshield, I think he's changed his mind and I feel my heart drop. When his fiery eyes meet mine, I feel a swell of joy come up in my heart as if my chest is going to explode. Don't get yourself so fucking excited, you never know how this could go. If you get too invested, you'll just get hurt. You just met him for fuck's sake.

I forget about the game I'm playing when he pulls me in for a kiss. It's rough and sloppy and the stubble of his chin scratches my face. His tongue tastes like cigarettes, beer, and gas station burritos. I run my fingers through his hair and find it to be surprisingly soft. The pressure of his hand on the back of my neck, pinning my face to his, makes it feel like electricity is running through my scalp. When he pulls away, his nose brushes against mine and his eyes seem to be full of hunger.

"Time for bed," he coos.

It's going to be a heartache tonight, I know.


	2. The future seemed so bright

I'm nauseated by how fucking happy I feel. The sun is shining and the birds are singing like it's a terrible musical cartoon with a sugary princess story. My sunglasses are sliding off of the bridge of my nose because of the sweat dripping down my face. If I focus on the heat I can still feel a bit bitchy. Kimmy and I are sitting on my aunt's front porch with watered-down Bloody Marys clutched in our hands. I've managed to dodge her questions for another five minutes by getting her to ramble on about one of her siblings and their new kitten. When I stumbled into my aunt's house a few days ago, she didn't say a word to me. I'm sure I'd hear about it soon. She wasn't the type to stay out of my business. It was her insistent nagging that I find a husband that got me to go along with Kimmy's idea.

Unfortunately for my sorry ass, Kimmy has noticed my silence. I've barely been sipping on my booze but ,Kimmy's nearly sucked her's down completely. Her face is flushed from the taint of drunkenness and I find myself amused by this. She gets drunk so easily. She hardly has to sniff this shit and she's gone.

"You never told me what happened!" Kimmy snaps.

Her words are slurring slightly. She clearly isn't drunk enough to forget this conversation but, my hidden inner teenage girl is screaming to talk. I've been struggling to smother her for days and I'm so close to caving. I don't want to have this conversation and I certainly don't want to have to face my feelings. He hasn't called me since that night and I don't want to face the bitter failure just yet.

"What happened? When? Where?" I stall.

She makes a motion with her rail thin arms and mimics strangling me.

"Don't be a bitch! The speed dating thing!" She demands, a little too loudly.

I take a sip from the Bloody Mary and my tongue tingles from the spices.

"Oh, that," I say.

I try to sound as dry as I can. I try to erase Trevor's smirk from my brain and forget the sound of his voice as it whispered in my ear. I feel goose bumps break out across my arm at the memory.

"Well?" Kimmy presses. "Did you meet anyone nice? I met a couple nice people there once—"

She hiccups and I give her a pat on the back. I sensed the start of a tangent and I wanted to encourage it.

"Did they call you back?" I ask.

Part of me does actually care.

"No," Kimmy admits. "Fuck! And where would we go to screw anyway?! Yes, hi, I share a bedroom with four of my sisters! Don't mind them!"

I hand her my drink. She wraps her pink lips around the straw and sucks down a huge gulp of the sad concoction.

"Please, tell me it worked out for you," She says. "We can't both be spinsters."

As if it wasn't sad enough that we were living with relatives, unemployed, and stumbling through our first degrees with a bunch of idiots we despised. I always had a sense of how much my life sucked but, my experience with Trevor seemed to make it just sting a little more. I needed to forget about him. He was a good fuck that's all. I got this vibe from him that he was just bad news. Fuck, even if he called it wouldn't work out. I didn't want to think about it.

"Think of all the cats you could have if you were a spinster," I point out.

Kimmy lights up like a fucking Christmas tree after I say that.

"I love cats so much," She says.

She leans over and lets her head fall on my shoulder. She slurps up the last of my Bloody Mary and I scowl at the wretched gurgling noises she makes trying to get every last drop of alcohol out of the glass.

"Why can't I get a degree just about cats?" She asks.

I pull the empty glass from her hand and set it on the splintering planks of the porch.

"That's called being a vet," I explain.

She lets out a sigh that is so loud I think for the briefest of moments that she's faking. That's just how she is though. She's like a cartoon and I have to admit I love her for it.

"But that sounds so hard," She says.

Her words are blending together nicely now. I still don't think she's drunk enough to forget the confession I want to make. I won't want to make it unless I can pretend this conversation never happened.

"It is hard," I say. "Maybe you can just marry a vet."

"There would be so many cats that way," Kimmy muses.

She just sits there silently for a moment, resting her head on my shoulder. I wonder if she's fallen asleep. I hope she hasn't. She distracts me from this gnawing obsession I have over Airman Philips. I have to smother it. I need to smother it.

"So what happened?" Kimmy presses.

Fuck this bitch, why is she my friend again? Oh that's right because she actually gives a shit about me. But why did she have to keep asking about that? Damn it, I wish she could just serve the purpose I needed her to serve without me having to tell her.

"It doesn't matter." I say.

She leans back and tries to look me in the eye but, there's no way she can see through my dark glasses. I don't want her to see my eyes. If she could see them, than she might be able to notice I was feeling off.

"Why not?" Kimmy asks.

I have to look away from her as I prepare my response. I loved and hated her all at once. She was annoying and insipid but, she was all I had.

"It didn't mean anything," I explain.

She nearly falls backwards but, catches herself.

"Oooooh," She says. "So something did happen?"

I pat her on the back. Her ass is nice and drunk but, not drunk enough to get anymore from me.

"I don't think I'll try out speed dating again," I say.

She nods with far too much enthusiasm.

"Not a good place to meet cat wranglers," She says.

I force myself to laugh. There is a root of truth in her statement. It wasn't a good place to meet a nice, stable guy with a good job. It was the perfect place to meet a mysterious pilot with a mean streak though.

I hate how he keeps creeping back into my thoughts. I figure in a few days it won't matter. If it weren't the middle of summer and I had a class to freak out over,it would be easier. Instead I got to sit here and freak out over the never-ending stream of thoughts in my head that kept telling me he hated me. I kept going over the night on replay trying to figure out what I did wrong. Why didn't he call me? How did I fail at my scheming? I must've come off as a desperate, sad, old cow. Maybe I was just terrible in bed and he was too fucking disgusted to even tell me? If it was so bad why did he let me spend the night though?

Kimmy was waffling on about some professor we had. He was Mormon and a fucking dork with a shit ton of kids. She thought he was hot. In her state of intoxication she felt the need to express her desires for him. I wanted to shake the lingering dread at losing Trevor. I kept beating myself up over these feelings. I didn't want him, he was bad. But I did want him. I knew if I forced it hard enough I could stop wanting him so desperately.

The front door swung open with a loud creek and my plump aunt steps out onto the front porch. I cringe as I watch her bare feet walk across the surface of the dusty wood panels. I despise how she does that. Every time I watch her do it I just want to scrub the entire house down. Her hair is a mass of red, with her brown roots beginning to show through.

"You've got a phone call," She says.

Kimmy lets out a loud whistle and I punch her in the arm.

"Who is it?" I pry.

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel the veins in my neck throbbing. I can barely describe the sickening feeling in my heart. I want it to be Trevor but, at the same time I dread the hurt I'll feel when I speak into the phone and find he's not on the other side.

"I don't know," My aunt explains. "But he's rude."

I feel like my organs are shifting around within my body to try and come out through my mouth and spill out onto this dusty porch. I know it has to be him now but, I just cannot accept it. I have to hear his voice. I remind myself I need to just blow him off. He's bad news. Don't ignore your instincts. I try to hide the trembling of my limbs as I get up and walk into the house. Kimmy is cackling like a hyena and I want to kick her in the back of the head.

All the panic I feel about talking to Trevor helps me forget about my aunt's feet walking across the old carpet, tracking the porch's residue throughout the house. I pick up the receiver and lace my fingers through the thick curly cord. I put it to my ear, but hold the mouth piece away from my face. I don't want him to hear how hard it is for me to breath. I search for the courage to say "Hello." I know once I am able to do this that I can turn off my anxiety. I can get back into the game and stuff all of my emotions away.

"Hello?" I say.

I sound so weak and it disgusts me.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Trevor asks.

It's him there's no doubt about it. I take in a breath and it's like a switch is flipped. I am a panther stalking their prey. I let the smile spread across my face and I lean against the wall of the kitchen.

"You sound like someone kicked you in the nuts," Trevor scoffs.

I don't laugh. I won't give him that, not yet.

"Oh, I just had a big black dick in my mouth, don't worry," I joke.

He doesn't find this the least bit funny. I knew he wouldn't.

"You better not," He says.

He sounds much firmer than I expect. Much angrier. It reminds me that I should blow him off, but the flicker of jealousy I hear in his voice makes my heart race again.

"I'm just screwing with you," I say.

I hear a low growl on the other end of the phone and I find it oddly arousing.

"Don't fuck with me like that!" He hisses. "That shit isn't fucking funny, okay!?"

I've pissed him off. It should terrify me how he feels this ownership over me now but I know the truth. He doesn't own me but, I'll let him have this illusion. It makes me feel like a cold seductress. The louder he screams the easier it is for me to pretend that I'm not a goddamn mess.

"I wasn't aware that we were supposed to be exclusive," I say.

I hear the sound of glass shattering from his end and his shouts.

"Fuck! You're the one who gave me your number!" Trevor yells. "What the fuck am I supposed to think? I wasn't aware that it was a fucking restraining order!"

I need to blow him off. His temper is too much, it's not what I expected.

"Well, if you're not interested anymore, that's fine," I say.

I don't mean it. I don't want him to hang up or tell me no.

"Oh-ho-ho, I really fucking doubt that, sweet cheeks," He seethes. "You can pretend all you fucking want that the other night was just a fucking jaunt through piss-and-sunshine land but I'm not an idiot."

His rant left me without words. I could do nothing but listen. I felt a mixture of panic and excitement and it bothered me how much I enjoyed the blurring of those lines.

"I know how bad you want this," He says, in a low voice. "You squirmed like a virgin when I touched you. I'm the only piece of meat you've had in decades that made you feel like god was fucking creating a new universe inside you and I know you are not going to let that feeling slip through your fingers. You got a taste of what you are missing form you piss-pot life and you can't get enough of it. You're hooked on Trevor Philips, sugar tits, and there's no backing out now."

"I don't have a car," I say.

I don't know how I'm able to keep my tone so calm. I don't give a shit if Kimmy is here. I don't give a shit about my aunt. I want him now. I want to have him over and over until I pass out from exhaustion with the stink of his sweat all over me.

"Give me your fucking address," Trevor says. "I'll be there before your tea cakes dry out."

No man has ever made me feel this way. I feel like he could get me to do anything he wanted. I don't care. I know this is a mistake. I know I shouldn't let my guard down but I can't help it. He ruined all my schemes, he broke all the rules I play by. I need to have him now. I give him my address in a hushed voice and he just hangs up the phone when I finish. I rush to my room and grab some clothes. I can hear the hum of the TV from my aunt's room and I tiptoe by. Kimmy is stepping back into the house when I get back to the living room.

"What's going on?" Kimmy pries.

I realize how frantic I feel because I can't find a response for her. Fuck it, Kimmy, what will I do with you? How do I get you out of the way?

"It meant something," I say.

She looks really confused. I scowl because I have no time to deal with her. I don't want to. I can't think of anything but getting into Trevor's car. I don't even think I can make it back to his shitty apartment without fucking his brains out.

"What are you talking about?" Kimmy asks.

I rip off my sunglasses and give her the nastiest glare I can. I'm a shitty friend. I am well aware of this fact. She deserves better than me but, she's the only person who understands me enough to stick around for more than a month.

"Oh," She says.

It's almost as if she squeaks.

"Congratulations!" Kimmy cheers.

For once, she isn't too dense to have trouble figuring it out. She got it on her own. You get a gold fucking star today, Kimmy.

"Keep, Dani, busy," I ask.

Kimmy giggles like she's a fucking high school girl.

"Not a problem," She says.

She gives me a very unwanted hug and I cringe at her touch. I don't understand how I can despise contact with certain people but, ache for it from others. It drives me to madness but at the moment I don't have time to care.

"Have fun," Kimmy says.

I pat her on the back awkwardly to try and end the hug quickly. She pulls away and I quickly get out of her reach. I don't want her spoiling this for me with her incessant need to be touchy.

"Thanks," I say.

I step out the front door and plant myself on the curb. I fold my spare clothes over and over as I wait. In the boredom of waiting for him, I feel the doubt creep back in. It comes in like a spider, slowly, step by step getting closer to its prey. I had to fight it off. I don't want to ruin this. I don't want him to see this part of me. I need to beat it to death like a fucking sick rabbit before he gets here.

That voice in my head keeps nagging me though. The bitch says he's bad and I know better. She tells me to just tell him to go away. That I don't like him. I feel like screaming out loud just to silence the thoughts in my head. I start kneading my hands together. It's going to be one of those days then? The harder I knead them the more they hurt. The sharper the pain I can cause the easier it is to shut out the thoughts. The pain in my hand is almost orgasmic. It sends a wave of calm over my body with every new level of pain I cause.

I hear the roar of an engine coming down my quiet street. The squealing of tires as they round a corner. My heart leaps at the thought of him being near. My Airman is coming. Yes, he is my Airman. I like that notion far too much for my own good. As his car pulls up to my house, I try to snuff out that last doubt but I fail completely. This will only end in pain. I know it and accept it now.

His car comes to screeching halt in front of my house. I stand with my neatly folded clothes tucked under my arm. He looks angry but, the way his face developed makes him look angry all the time so I'm unsure how he really feels. He watches me get into his car and I catch his gaze falling over my body. The simple gesture makes me feel like the panther again. Like I'm in control of the situation.

As soon as I slam the car door shut, he tears off. The radio is blasting some awful music. It sounds like dying cats getting in their last fuck while some toddler smashes away on the drums. His hair is a mess and it looks like his uniform is in dire need of washing. Being in the car with him makes my flesh tingle. Every hair on my body stands on end. I can't hear anything over this shit awful music. The way he grips the gear stick makes me feel an electric current throughout my body.

He turns down the radio at the red light we come to and throws me a glance. He still looks pissed but, it seems like he's calming down. I get the feeling that this encounter will be nothing like our first.

"We need to get something fucking straight," He snarls.

I want to touch him. I ache to trace my fingers along the hand that still clutches the stick but I resist. I fear if our skin makes contact we won't make it back to his place. We'll just end up screwing right here.

"Yes," Is all I manage to say.

He takes in a deep breath as the light turns green. We take off again and I feel myself pushed into the back of the seat from the momentum.

"You don't fuck anyone but me, got that?" Trevor says.

I hold my head up high. He wants to lay down the ground rules but, I have some of my own. This isn't about who has power to me anymore. I hate those games when it comes to this. When it comes to something serious. Fuck, this was serious now.

"The same goes for you," I say. "If I find out you're sticking it to some whore, I'm cutting off her tits and your dick."

He seems to be infuriated by this. He swerves through the traffic and someone wails on their horn in protest. His driving is getting more erratic.

"Who the fuck gave you the right to tell me what to do!?" Trevor snaps.

I jump when he clips a light pole but, it doesn't stop him. It's an incident that catches me off guard but, I know I can't back down. With a man like this, I can't let him believe that he's the boss of me. I refuse.

"And you think you can just tell me what the fuck to do with my life?" I press. "I'm not your bitch, Trevor. I'm your girlfriend."

Hearing myself say the last word gives me such a satisfying feeling. Trevor Philips is my boyfriend. The doubting voice in my head reminds me that he will also be my downfall if I'm not careful. I wish so desperately I could punch that invisible cunt in the face.

He lets out a growl before he speaks again, "Fine, I'll fucking buy into your feminist fucking horse crap, if it'll keep you around."

He wants me around for now at least. He simmers in his anger, screaming at the other drivers as he tears through the town. His voice is starting to get hoarse as he shouts obscenities at the world around him. I'm amazed we haven't been pulled over yet. The more he takes out his anger on the road the more consistent his driving becomes.

Some instinct deep within me drives me to gently lay my hand over his. I feel his bony knuckles pressing into my palm as he grips the gear stick. Feeling the texture of his skin on my clammy palm silences the doubt in my head. Every relationship I've ever had started like this. I was so overwhelmed with joy it managed to silence my broken thoughts for a week or two. It was always so pleasant at the start but, as soon as the anxiety came back things would start to fall apart.

Trevor wasn't the type of guy to put up with my shit. Fuck, I could barely put up with it. I felt this strong, collected woman hiding inside me that was so desperate to be free. She was always held prisoner by that cunty, paranoid, anxious little shit that was always nagging the back of my mind. I felt his muscles relax by the tiniest interval and I actually smiled.

Now, I'm not a fucking moron. I know there's no way I can tame a man like Trevor. Fuck, people can't be tamed. Trevor wasn't going to change, he was going to fuck me over and leave me a wreck. As long as he was aware I wasn't going to change either, I didn't give a shit. I'm a mess, Trevor Philips, and you have no idea. It wouldn't be long before I heard his objections, before he started to see how fucked up I really was. I suspect that I'm even more fucked up than he is.


	3. Then this thing turned out so evil

I wish I had good news. I really can't be surprised though at how things have been going. I knew this would happen and it's not like I'm unprepared. Fuck, I can't even believe it's been a month since I started this fuck ass stupid journey with Trevor. After about two weeks of me spending every other day on base, Aunt Dani just came out and asked me what was going on. I could tell she was pissed that I was dating another scum bag but, she kept that sentiment to herself. She told me 'congratulations' and left it at that. That was just her way. She would pry and poke to figure out what was going on but, if she didn't like what was going down she'd never tell you. To her, any dick for me is a blessing at this point.

For me, it seemed like those first few weeks were just a blur of sloppy sexual encounters and unusual, shallow conversations in the dead of night. I was always too distracted to let the bitch in my head get her claws into me. Lucky for Trevor, I guess. But shit's leveled out now. We're not like a bunch of stupid kids rutting nonstop because we think we've found the greatest fucking person in the world. There's a real fucked up person beneath the surface and they're finally getting their chance to pop out and say "Howdy fucking doody."

I hate myself right now because I let that bitch get a hold of me again. I'm scrubbing the shit out of Trevor's shower. I don't even know how you can call this tiny fucking thing a shower. It's covered in cracked white tile and before I went to work on it all the grout was some shit stain shade of brown. His bathroom has taken on the smell of astringent and it's making my nostrils sting. I got the itch this morning when I woke up in his lumpy bed. It's not the germs that bother me. I'm not a fucking idiot; I know there's no way to stop that shit. It's more just making things look just right.

I don't like to think about why I have to keep everything perfect. When that itch in the back of my head starts creeping in and my chest tightens up, it's easy to forget about why this happens. I'm more exhausted from the month's worth of panic spilling out all in one day than the work I've done. What the fuck am I supposed to do when I'm done with this bathroom though? This place was fucking spotless now. I'm sure once I do another walk through I'll find some tiny stain in the carpet. The sight will make me feel like fire ants are crawling all over me and I'll lose my ability to breath.

I didn't want Trevor to see this but, I knew this day would come. If he left me today I'd just tear up my aunt's house then two weeks later I'd lose my shit for real. The tips of my fingers are burning from their overexposure to bleach. If I didn't feel that blessed pain I'd forget all the time that I was capable of having other feelings. Every time I think about how Trevor's going to react when he comes back, I feel my heart sink. I like that little shit too much already.

I was surprised when I found out he was younger than me. It's not by much really but, enough that I normally would've written him off because of the age difference. My sorry ass is almost thirty and he just broke in to his twenties. I think about the way my name sounds when he says it with his faint Canadian accent and my heart flutters. I scrub the tile with more vigor to try and rub out that nauseating feeling. I will keep scrubbing this little fucker until it's whiter than the fucking leader of the Klu Klux Klan. That bitch in my head keeps nagging me. She's telling when Trevor comes home he's going to dump my compulsive ass and I'll be a broken mess all fucking over again.

When I hear the front door slam open I shit in my pants a little. I'll never stop scrubbing though. You'd have to cut my fucking arm off at this point to get me to stop fucking scrubbing.

"What the fuck happened here!?" He shouts.

I hear his footsteps thunder across the floor over to the bathroom. My ass is probably hanging out of the doorway in these filthy, stained boxers. I scrub harder to shut up the bitch in my head. He's going to leave me. He's going to dump my crazy, fucked up ass. I feel the tip of his boot brush against my butt and I want to pretend that's he's not there. I can't ignore his presence though; I already feel the fire in my belly from hearing his voice.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Trevor asks.

I can't look at him. Somehow looking him in the eye makes it all a reality that he's seeing this right now. All I fucking see is this glossy fucking tile, because I've got my face fucking planted right up on it. The sound of the sponge scraping into the grout is like a metronome keeping me hypnotized in this moment. If I don't feel anything right now it won't be so bad.

"I said: what the fuck are you doing!?" Trevor barks.

I feel him grab my arm and pull me up. He does it with such force that I fall back into his legs. I grasp at his thick calves for support. I already envy how strong he is, not just physically. He's like a goddamn marble column holding up the fucking world. I look up at him because I can't avoid it anymore. His expression seems more amused than furious but, with Trevor there's no telling what's going on in his head. I want to cry when I look into his brown eyes.

"I'm cleaning up your shithole," I say.

It doesn't come off nearly as aggressive as I had hoped. Any idiot walking by could see this wasn't an angry clean up. This was methodical and obsessive.

"Well, no fucking shit," Trevor scoffs.

He holds his hand up to his face, sniffs it, and wrinkles his nose. The smell stopped bothering me years ago but to the rest of the fucking world it smells like a bleach factory. It's clear he's not used to it either.

"You're gonna fucking kill yourself, open a goddamn window." He says.

He storms across the apartment to open his only window. The glass shakes as he slams it open and I watch him thrust his head out side. His shoulders heave up and down as he takes in a series of deep breaths. I feel like a kid right now who got caught with their hand down their goddamn pants. I slink over to him. My hands are raw and twitchy and my clothes are damp with sweat. All I can feel is fear anymore. I've become too comfortable with him to be able to play my games of hide and seek. Feeling at ease always lets the crazy sneak out.

"A-are you mad?" I ask.

Fuck, I sound like a scared little kid when I talk and I hate it.

"If you threw out any of my shit, I will be," Trevor warns. "Did you do that?"

I'm not that stupid. In fact I didn't dare throw out anything that wasn't blatantly garbage. The fear of pissing him off is too much but, I don't hear his voice screaming at me in my head. He's not beyond rage like that, I could easily see him expressing it but, I remind myself he's not that person I'm hearing in my head.

"No," I say.

He seems completely irritated by my sudden display of weakness. I knew he never could have seen this coming. Only people who know me very well know about this part of me. I put up a very convincing façade.

"So, what the fuck is all this?" Trevor asks.

He will never ask me how I'm feeling. I don't expect him too, ever, and the lack of those words doesn't hurt.

"I just felt like cleaning up," I lie.

Even I can't believe that horse shit pouring from my lips. I can't make the words sound convincing as much as I'd love them too. Your girlfriend is fucking nuts, Trevor Philips, congrat-u-fucking-lations.

"Don't lie to me," Trevor hisses. "You were fine with my set up for weeks and then out of the fucking blue I come back to find you've turned in to fucking Mrs. Beaver! What the fuck happened?"

"Well-" I begin.

I feel the loose t-shirt slip off my shoulder and my heart sinks. The big swollen, welts on my shoulder are now exposed for the world to see. Oh yes, Trevor, I did try to stop this from happening. I gouged out my own fucking flesh to try and stop this from happening.

"What the fuck!?" He spits.

Trevor pulls down my shirt farther and sees the pitted mess that both of my shoulders have become. I want to say sorry to him. I want to beg him for forgiveness, the pain didn't stop me this time, Trevor, I'm sorry. He'd seen the scars from my past endeavors before but, he never asked. I think it was more because he didn't give a fuck, but now they must seem more significant.

"What the fuck is all this?" Trevor presses.

The raw wounds sting when he runs his fingers over them. His gaze falls to my fingernails and the thin layer of crusty blood that's stuck under them.

"So- I may have a few problems," I say.

Leave it to me to make an awkward comment in a situation like this. I always try to sound so casual and it just doesn't really fit in these moments. It's that attitude that always drives them away. It's going to drive him away. I feel dirty and sick.

"No fucking shit," Trevor says.

I just shrug. Jesus Christ, that's all I can fucking do right now? I'm just used to it by now I guess. Everyone always gets that subtle look of disgust on their face and if they're nice they pretend to understand. I almost wish they'd just admit they think I'm fucking crazy and leave it at that.

"You're going to tell me what the fuck happened," Trevor growls. "I don't enjoy surprises."

The anger is radiating off of him and I just can't shake the feeling of doom that's consuming me. This is over.

"I just-" I say.

I have yet to find a nice, fluffy fucking way to sugar coat my bullshit.

"Once in a while, I get this bitch in my head. It's not like I hear voices. I'm not that kind of crazy." I explain. "Sometimes if I pick at myself long enough, the pain- it'll get her to shut up and nothing happens."

His expression is stone cold. I can't read him at all. Trevor Philips is going to dump me. That's all that ever happens when I have this conversation with men.

"It didn't work out today, so-I fucking-" I say.

I gesture around his apartment. I want to cry, I want to punch something, I want claw my face off. I want to do all sorts of crazy things just to get the fuck out of this situation.

But he doesn't say a fucking word. He's just standing there like a dumb ass. Fuck, doesn't he realize how this is supposed to go? I tell him about my fucked up brain and he tells me to get the fuck out and never call him again.

"Sit down, sit down," He grumbles.

He gingerly pushes me on to the bed and I'm completely baffled. His voice doesn't sound angry, there's just this hint of annoyance in his tone like I just forgot about something mundane and now he has to deal with it. I watch him walk back to the bathroom and dig through his medicine cabinet. I didn't expect this and I panic. What the fuck is happening? It's not supposed to pan out like this. Are we over? Does he hate me?

He returns with a bottle of vodka and some gauze and plops down on the bed next to me. I watch him pour some of the liquid onto a bandage and cringe as he slops it all over the sheets and the floor.

"So, why the fuck didn't you mention this?" Trevor seethes.

He dabs at my welts with the soaking bandage and it feels like my skin has caught fire. I don't even flinch though. I have made myself feel much worse and even that had no effect.

"It just doesn't seem like the best topic to bring up on a first date, " I jest.

He snorts. Jesus fucking tits, he's laughing? He makes no sense to me at all. He keeps dabbing at my welts until, every single one is stinging and puckered. The way he lays the fresh bandages over my shoulder shocks me. He's being gentle. I've never seen this from him. Everything is so forceful and purposeful with him. He doesn't fuck around with being gentle or careful. I'm not the only one showing a whole new side today. Trevor Philips shocks me again and I feel a flicker of hope for us.

"I just don't fucking get why people try to hide their shit," Trevor says. "We're all fucked at the end of the day. It would save a lot of time and cut out all the bullshit if we just fucking admitted to all the nasty things we do when no one's looking."

It's a charming outlook, enough to make me smile. How did this handsome Airman end up with a worn out old bag like me? I'd be lucky if he stuck around for another month. It seems okay for now but, I stamped the expiration date on our fling today. He'll get tired of my shit and he'll find some hot young thing that he can get wrapped around his dick. She'll have a lot less fucking problems too and massive perky tits.

"I should just get a tattoo on my forehead that says: Fucked up bitch," I say. "But it'd be a lot harder to pick up twisted fucks like you wouldn't it?"

He starts working on my other shoulder and shoots me a glare after my comment. It's a warning, and if I didn't feel so exhausted I'd keep pushing. Part of me likes fucking with him. Pushing his buttons makes me feel like I've actually got control over something in my life.

"You think I'm fucked up?" Trevor asks.

The way his voice is fluctuating tells me I've hit a nerve. This isn't the time for jokes.

"We're all fucked up, Trevor," I say.

That does not seem to ease his mind. He gets a little rougher with me as he puts the bandages on my shoulder.

"I am not fucking crazy," Trevor hisses.

I grab his hand firmly. I see more than just rage in his eyes, there's a deep hurt there and I realize I've stumbled into an area that is troubling him.

"I never said you were crazy," I say.

His brow starts to twitch. I've seen it enough times now to know that he does that when there's something very intense going down in his head.

"Yeah, well I'm not fucking crazy," Trevor insists.

Seeing him in pain turns off my panic. I seize this blessed reprieve to become the woman I know I am deep down inside. All my bullshit is just dead weight that gets in the way. At least he's able to help me toss it to the wayside for a little while. I brush the back of my hand along his face. I can barely feel the texture of his skin with my raw hands.

"You're not crazy," I assure him. "You're not a bad guy, Trevor."

I feel even more reassured when he nuzzles into my hand . He clasps his hand over mine to keep my fingers pressed against his face. Oh fuck, I like you so damn much, Trevor Philips. He makes it damn hard to remember this is going nowhere.

We get absolutely shit faced that afternoon. We thank each other for the mutual acceptance in the only way we know how. Sex. We keep going into the wee hours of the night but, I make him take me back home anyway. My aunt will start to get fucking whiney if I stay out for too many days. I didn't want to go home. I just wanted to lay in bed with him and memorize the lines of his face. But I'm too fucking responsible to do that shit anymore. The honeymoon was over and it was time to act like grownups again.

I watch him on the drive back to my aunt's. My body aches from the day's events and I fucking reek of bleach and the stink of sex. I must've fallen asleep during the drive because it seems to go by faster than I want. He parks in front of my aunt's house and turns off the car. We just sit there staring out the windshield for some time. I can see the sleepy gloss coming over his eyes and I feel guilty for keeping him up so late.

"Call me," I say.

I want him to be the one to call. Even in this exhaustion I want to put the ball in his court to make sure he really wants to keep this charade going.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Trevor says.

He's forcing himself to sound irritated by my nagging. I smirk and shake my head. I feel like something has changed between us but, I'm not really sure what it is. There is still the sense of impending doom that is always present in the back of my mind but, it's easier to ignore now. I kiss him on the cheek but before I can pull away he grabs me by the hair and pulls me in for a sloppier, proper goodbye. The way he kisses me makes me really believe that he wants this.

"Trevor, it's time," I gasp.

He growls in protest but lets me slip out of his grasp anyway. I step out of the car and lean in to the window. I can barely make out his features in the darkness but, it's enough to make a stupid warm tingly feeling come over my chest.

"Be good, okay?" I say.

It seems like a weird thing to say but, this is Trevor. He's great at causing trouble.

"I promise," Trevor says.

I know it's a meaningless contract but, somehow it reassures me. I feel like I worry about him in the wrong way, like he's just some wild kid that I have to keep in line. Yet, earlier today I felt like he was the one taking care of me. It was a fucked up dynamic to have but, I don't seem to care at the moment. Every relationship ends up fucked up in some weird unique way. I don't hear him drive off until I've walked through the front door.

He will never admit it but, he's a proper fucking gentleman when he wants to be. His mother must've raised him right. I can hear my aunt Dani's thunderous snores as I walk back to my room. My shoulders are sore and my joints ache. I collapse into the bed and relish the scent of Trevor Philips that still lingers on my skin. This will be the best disaster of my life.


	4. I don't know why I'm still surprised

We're sitting in Trevor's fucked as hell car and watching the horror unfold outside. It's like a pack of ravenous wolves are tearing each other apart in a bloody massacre. Kimmy's siblings are ripping up the yard as her mother chases after them, red faced and frustrated. The farmhouse looks too small to fit so many people in it. When Kimmy invited me out for the Fourth, I was hesitant. I'd never been to her house simply because I knew how much I hated large groups of people. I had been casually telling Trevor about the invitation, when he cut me off and insisted that we go. He wanted to meet my best friend and the idea of fucking around with explosives appealed to him too. I'm too overwhelmed by the situation to notice the sheer excitement plastered on Trevor's face.

Trevor gets out of the car and I immediately panic. Christ, I have to introduce him to all these fucking people. We're too fucking weird for this wholesome, candy coated family. I scramble out of the car and stumble after him. I have no fucking clue where Kimmy is and I am absolutely fucking terrified. Her dad is stationed at the grill and I can't really make out his face as the smoke billows into the air. He waves us over and Trevor takes the lead. I don't fucking want to meet him. I want to crawl back into the car and disappear. Where the fuck is Kimmy when I need her?

"Howdy!" Kimmy's dad hollers. "I'm so glad you guys could make it out!"

If they knew Trevor better, fuck, if they knew me better, they wouldn't be happy to have us here. I've never seen Trevor look this happy before. I'm finding the whole experience very surreal. As much as I find this Endeavour terrifying, it warms my heart to see him beaming with happiness like this.

"Nice to meet you!" Trevor says.

He thrusts out his hand and they shake vigorously. What the fuck, I'm living in a fifties TV ad now.

"Hey," I say.

Jesus tits, I'm awkward. I need to try and focus on how happy this is making Trevor even though I'm screaming on the inside. A cluster of toddlers nearly slams into us and they send up a cloud of dust in their wake. Trevor laughs with a little too much enthusiasm. I expect this to bother Kimmy's dad but, he doesn't seem fazed.

"Don't mind the brood," he explains. "I'm Roger."

Roger, do you realize your family is like a fucking zoo and I'm shitting myself? Kimmy, get the fuck out here I need you.

"Thanks for having us out here," Trevor says. "I didn't have anywhere to go today."

Leave it to Trevor to maintain all the necessary social graces. We could've been just laying around in his apartment all day, fuck fireworks and barbecues and loud kids. Why did this appeal to him so much?

"Oh my Kimmy loves to take in strays," Roger says with a really creepy wink.

Fuck, Kimmy, it makes so much more sense now to see why you can't get a man.

"You got a nice plot of land here," Trevor says.

I am impressed with his ability to blend in to this situation. It's unexpected and incredibly sexy.

"Thank you! It's been in the family for a long time now, I'm the first to have more than one kid though so, we'll have to figure out who gets to take over the stead," Roger explains.

You could've just worn a condom, Roger. That could've solved your problem about fifteen kids ago. I start to phase out of their conversation. Trevor is able to communicate on a level of redneck that I don't understand. I cringe a little less every time Trevor laughs too loudly. My mind starts to fixate on the messy state of the yard. Toys are strewn everywhere and the lawn has been run down by the constant pounding of tiny feet. I watch Kimmy's mom down a beer and crush the can in her hand before she continues her endless struggle to contain her spawn.

A cloud of dust broke over the gravel road and I watched a beat-up truck come rumbling toward us. I hadn't seen any of the older kids so I assumed it was them. I felt a wave of relief wash over me when Kimmy hopped out of the truck. More of them pour out of the truck than I had expected. Jesus, how the fuck did they all cram themselves in there? As soon as Kimmy spotted me she let out a high pitched squeal. She came running over to me and wrapped her gangly arms around me. I winced a little, my shoulders hadn't quite finished healing up and it caught me off guard.

"I'm so glad you made it!" Kimmy squeels. "I seriously thought you were going to bail."

I crack a halfhearted smile.

" Thanks for inviting me to the gates of hell," I say.

Kimmy laughs, it's very fake and I see the flicker of anger in her eyes.

"Don't be a bitch," Kimmy growls.

I see her scan the party and I know exactly who she's looking for. She doesn't give two fucks about me showing up. She just wanted to scope out the slab of man meat that I've got my claws dug into. She hasn't seen much of me since Trevor has been around and I know it bothers her. She locks on to him pretty quickly; his uniform makes him stick out like daisy in a wasteland. She gasps and starts tapping me on the shoulder like a giddy fucking cheerleader.

"Oh—my—god," Kimmy squeals. "You brought him?!"

I want to punch her in the mouth. Her excitement is making me blush furiously and I know if she notices she'll give me shit.

"Yes," I squeak.

She seems to grow more puzzled as she looks him over from a distance.

"Uh-I think we need to discuss our different definitions of 'hot'," Kimmy says. "I mean he's not ugly-."

"Just shut up," I say.

Kimmy nods and tries to force a smile but it just looks like she has to take a massive dump. I don't want to introduce her to Trevor. I just don't want to be here. It's too fucking overwhelming. I had never gotten this far with a guy before. I was never introducing him to friends and all that garbage. I had never planned to do this either. I knew my time with Trevor was going to be short, so why the fuck bother with all this shit?

"Where were you?" I ask.

I feel somewhat hurt that she wasn't here to protect me from this awkward disaster when I arrived.

"We were just getting some last minute supplies," Kimmy explains. "We never have enough fireworks."

I'll admit I do enjoy fireworks. I hate the patriotic bullshit that goes along with this holiday but, I do enjoy fucking with explosives. I just hate the sick need I always get the day after to clean up every last scrap from the streets. At least I won't have to worry about it this year.

"So, do I get to meet him or are we just going to stare at him all night?" Kimmy asks.

I know at this point there's no way to avoid this dreadful situation. I can tell she already thinks he's weird. I know deep down I shouldn't give two fucks what Kimmy thinks of my life choices but, I can't help myself. She's the only friend I have and I don't want to lose her over a man that I know isn't going to stick around. We make our way over to the grill and Roger beams with pride to see Kimmy approaching. I feel a bit jealous to see how much that fucker loves his family. My dad was never that happy to see me.

"Kimmy! Honey, come meet Trevor, we're having a grand old time here," Roger says.

Jesus Christ, who actually fucking talks like this?

"Kimmy," I say. "This is my boyfriend, Trevor."

I'm making an excellent job of turning this situation into an awkward mess. When Trevor shakes Kimmy's hand, I'm scared he's going to snap it right off of her wrist. He's so big compared to her that I know he wouldn't have any issues snapping her in half.

"Trevor, this is my friend Kimmy," I say.

I want to slap him when I watch his eyes flick over her body quickly. Christ, I know men are shallow and I know Kimmy is pretty but he at least could try to hide it from me.

"I've heard so much about you!" Kimmy says. "I'm so glad I could finally meet you."

Trevor looks alarmed by her statement. Time to do damage control. He probably thinks I've been telling her all his personal information so we can turn him in to the lizard men. Sometimes I think he's more fucking paranoid than I am.

"She knows you make me happy," I say through gritted teeth.

Trevor shifts his gaze between the two of us and lets out a nervous laugh.

"Right—" He says.

I slip my arm through his and squeeze the tense muscle that's bulging beneath his uniform.

"So, what did you get for us, dear?" Roger asks.

Kimmy starts rattling off how she blew her father's money and I pull Trevor back. Kimmy didn't mean to set him off, she had no fucking clue. But fuck, sometimes I wanted to pop her in the face for the oblivious comments she made.

"Calm the fuck down," I whisper to him.

He shoots me a nasty look. I hope he doesn't blow up and make a scene. I don't want to think about all these kids shitting their pants at the same time.

"What have you told her?" He hisses.

I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Your dick is big and you put up with my bullshit," I explain. "See? Nothing bad."

I can't tell if that calmed him down at all. He won't wipe that stern expression off his face. I just stare right back at him. I have to exude strength around him. It seems to work on rare occasions; it's the only thing in my arsenal that seems to prove somewhat consistent with him.

Without changing his expression he asks, "You really think it's big?"

Jackass, I could punch him the nuts right now. I loosen my grip on his arm.

"Yes, it's like a fucking freight train, are you happy?" I snap.

He grins and I can't help but smile too. This little shit has me caught in his web and he knows it.

The party doesn't become any less tense for me. Kimmy keeps getting caught up in her family and I can't really blame her. There's so fucking many of them and her mom needs the help. Trevor is like the fucking social butterfly that I desperately need in my life. If he hadn't been around, I probably would've left by now. By the time the sun finally sets, I've guzzled down enough booze to gain some social skills. Ask me to pick up a man, sure I can do that sober. Ask me to socialize with my best friend's family and it's fucking impossible. It makes no fucking sense to me.

Some of the little ones try to get me to do stupid things with them but it just doesn't pan out. I don't deal with kids well. They make me uncomfortable but, Trevor handles them like a fucking champ. This shit blows my mind beyond belief. Being surprised by his behavior has gotten to the point that it's almost not shocking at all. I both love and hate that feeling. He's a set of contradictions that confuse me. Just when I think I've got him pinned down he pulls shit like this. The only time the kids stop shrieking is when they're stuffing hot dogs down their throats. Watching the trash gradually accumulate in the yard makes me tense up. I can hear that bitch in my head telling me to start tidying up but I don't want to do this here. I want to pick at my skin, I want to make it bleed and sting so I can shut her up but this isn't the place. If I can't pick and I can't clean, how the fuck am I supposed to silence this deafening scream in my head? I need to leave, I need to run off into the fields and bash my skull against a rock.

"Hey!"

Trevor's firm call startles me. I'm so wrapped up in my bullshit again that I don't notice he's standing in front of me. He sits down next to me and slides another beer in my hand.

"Not right now," He barks. "Just drink that."

How does he know? I don't question it. I seize the break in my thoughts to gain control again. I pop open the can of beer and bring it to my lips. It's not at all as cold as I like but, I don't want to feel tense. I need the alcohol to loosen me up. We watch Kimmy hand out sparklers to the little kids and I feel like the grumpy old maid. Trevor though, fuck, he loves it. There little shrieks of joy and the clumsy way they wave around their little wands seem to leave him glowing.

"I never would've guessed you liked kids," I point out.

Fuck, he looks happy right now. It makes me feel good. Really fucking good.

"I fucking love 'em," Trevor says. "You don't?"

"It's not that I don't like them," I say. "I just don't think I'm any good with them."

He gets this devilish look in his eye and I just shake my head. I'm not having this conversation right now. It's a waste of fucking time to talk about this with him. As much as I hate to admit it, it's true. We have no future, Trevor Philips, so let's not bring that up ever again.

"C'mon, this is fun!" Trevor says. "Are you really gonna let your bullshit get in the way?"

I never really thought about how tense I was all the time. It was just a fact of life. I never thought to say: what am I missing out on? Even now when I thought I was calm I really wasn't. My chest feels tight, I feel the panic lingering in my mind and I just want to scrape off my skin till I bleed.

"I'm not," I say.

I know it's a lie. Trevor knows too and he won't let it slip.

"Seriously, what if one of these brats took a dump right in front of you?" Trevor says. "What would you do, start fucking bleaching the entire yard?"

I flash him a smile.

"No, I'd just throw it in your face," I tease.

He laughs so hard that he spills beer all over his trousers. This, of course, bothers me and I have to look away. Trevor snaps his fingers at me and I look back at him. He seems pissed again.

"Knock it off," Trevor says.

He sounds very serious now. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I want to say I can't just turn it off but, I realize that's not true. When shit hits the fan; I can turn it off. Why not now? Why not here?

"C'mon lets go blow up some shit," Trevor says. "I'm buzzed and I want to make things go boom."

I wasn't drunk enough to just go along with him but, I wanted to fight that bitch in my head. I didn't want to be left with my obsessive thoughts. I follow him to the pile of fireworks that's been laid out neatly in the yard. I don't see how it's okay for us just to waltz up here and start firing shit off but, I don't protest. I keep glancing over at Roger who's setting some saucers up in the gravel road. Trevor pulls out one of the stout rockets from the pile and hefts it in his hands a bit. He looks like a little boy to me at that moment and I feel so old compared to him.

I can't remember the last time I beamed like that over fireworks. For a moment, I actually expect him to just walk off with the rocket and set it up with Roger but, I should've known better. He stuffs the rocket under his shoulder and then starts kicking all the fireworks into a massive pile.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask.

I can hear the nervousness in my voice. The uncertainty in his actions makes me feel ill.

"Just chill the fuck out okay?" Trevor snaps. "Don't be a buzz kill."

I'm getting a bad feeling about this. He's agitated and has alcohol streaming through his veins, it's a combination that inevitably leads to trouble. I look back over at Kimmy and her family. They are too caught up in their bliss to notice him. I gasp and feel a sharp pain on my forearm. I look down to discover I've been picking at my arm. A nice trickle of blood is coming out of the new wound.

"Trevor…" I say.

"What!?" He snaps.

He is so loud that I'm surprised Kimmy's family doesn't notice. The saucers are whirring and spinning in the road and all the kids are squealing in delight. Trevor grabs my arm and yanks me closer.

"Really!? Fucking really?" Trevor snaps as he holds my fresh wound up to my face.

I rip my arm out of his grasp and push him away.

"Yes! Really, Trevor!" I retort. "You're setting me fucking off!"

I'm so fucking mad right now that I can barely think. The rest of the world doesn't exist to me at the moment. I was enjoying my perfectly awkward party and Trevor had to fucking ruin everything. He was just being a little punk.

"Set you off?!" Trevor screams. "Oh, I'll fucking set you off!"

I hear Kimmy say my name but, I'm too pissed to listen. Trevor tosses his rocket on top of the pile. As he digs a lighter out of his pocket he just glares at me in disgust. I realize what he's going to do. It's in that moment that everything turns off, just like it always does when the shit hits the fan.

"Trevor, don't-" I say.

He flicks his finger across the lighter and the little yellow flame pops up. That grin that turned my legs to jelly the first night we met now puts my stomach in knots. Trevor had surprised me today with his softer side and now he was scaring me with this monster.

I let out a gasp as he lit the rocket and took a step back. I felt Kimmy's hand touch my shoulder. Everything around us seemed to slow down. I could hear her siblings screaming as they ran away. Roger and her mother were shouting at us but, I couldn't believe this was really happening. Kimmy tugs so hard on my shoulder that I stagger back. The fireworks start to spark and whistle like a chilling orchestra of death.

Colors and light explode into the air and I just drop face down to the ground. I know it's too late to run. I can hear Trevor's laugh even over the roar of the fireworks. The kids are screaming and Kimmy keeps shouting at me. What the fuck has he done? What fucking drove him to do something this fucking stupid? I feel the heat of the embers landing on my back and I jerk away from the pain. I try to wriggle away and I watch the sparks and flames lick at the dirt behind me.

It finally stops and my nostrils fill with the stink of charred earth and sulfur. Trevor is still laughing like a madman when I look up from the ground. I'm covered with dirt and my shirt is singed in spots. Kimmy's siblings are screaming and crying and I can hear Roger trying to calm them down. I don't feel any fear anymore. I know we need to leave. There's a damn good chance Trevor and I will go to prison for this. When I get up, I see Kimmy just staring at me. Her hair is a mess and her mouth is wide open. She looks so betrayed but, I can't comfort her right now. I have things to take care of.

"We're leaving," I say.

She just opens and closes her mouth a few times, trying to find the words. I won't give her a chance to speak. I walk over to Trevor with a clear purpose. He is completely caught up in the sheer delight he derives from the chaos he's just unleashed. I watch Kimmy's mother run into the house. I know she's going to call the cops. If she's not doing that, it'll be a goddamn fucking shock to me. I grab Trevor's arm. When he glances at me, the joy completely drains from his face. I must look absolutely fucking terrifying right now because the maniac that was here moments before now looks like a terrified little boy.

"Trevor," I say.

My voice sounds so calm that even I feel comforted by the sound. The bitch is quiet right now, she won't speak up until I'm home alone in my bed with nothing but the darkness.

"Time to go," I finish.

I drag him to the car and climb in to the driver's seat. I'm terrible at driving stick but, I refuse to give him control over anything. The tires squeal as I peel down the gravel road, kicking up rocks and dust in our wake. The silence in the car makes me even more aware of just how empty I feel right now. I can't muster any ounce of emotion. I want to be angry; I want to smash his fucking face into the dashboard a thousand times and watch the blood spatter on the windshield. I'm on autopilot to get him home. It's possible that he just put us in to a position where we'll be on the run. I won't run though. If they want to arrest me, I'll go willingly. It'll be easier and it's more likely I'll walk away scot free.

I only stall the engine a few times on the drive back. I can't even look at Trevor, when I do, he cowers like a child. He literally cowers. I don't understand how I suddenly have this power over him. I would over analyze the fuck out of it later but, I couldn't right now. When I pull up to the gate at the base, I hold my hand out to him for his ID. I can barely feel the piece of plastic when he hands it to me. His touch is so meek that I can't believe it's him sitting in the car next to me. The guards don't look suspicious. By now they must know my face.

"He's drunk" I lie, dangling the ID in their face.

They chuckle and raise the barrier to let me in. When I pull into the spot in front of his apartment, it's so quiet I can hear the seat belt click as I undo it.

"Trevor," I say.

I don't like how matronly I sound when I speak. But it's a part of me that comes out in times like this. It was there even when I was kid watching my mom crying on the floor just after my dad beat the living shit out of her.

"D-don't be mad," Trevor stammers.

Holy fucking Christ, he sounds like a child.

"Let's go inside," I say. "We need to figure out what we're doing."

He starts sobbing like a fucking baby. I'm too shell shocked to be disturbed. I get out of the car and walk around to the other side. I open the car door and reach in. I have to undo his seat belt and try to pull him out of the car. He's like a massive rag doll in my arms. He's just shaking and sniveling like a kid. I don't think I'm strong enough to carry him but, I try to drag him into the building anyway. He drags his feet and I think if he wasn't walking I'd be on the ground trapped beneath his limp body. My back is screaming under his weight.

The bitch speaks a little bit; I'm not alarmed by it. She tells me I need to leave him. He's far more fucked up than I am and it's dangerous to be with a man like this. I can't abandon him right now though. He needs somebody and I'm the only person here. I fumble with the keys and barely get the door open before he slips away from me in to the apartment. He curls up on the floor, babbling and crying like a madman. I feel so fucking numb right now, someone could clock me in the head and I wouldn't even care. I get down on the floor next to him and start stroking his forehead with my fingertips.

"Trevor?" I coo. "Can you talk to me?"

"Mommy's going to be so fucking mad at me," Trevor cries. "Please don't tell her. Please, please please."

It's odd to hear but, I still feel completely blank. I already have the questions in my head formulated. I know just what I need to ask him to get the situation resolved. We need a plan. We need to be prepared for the consequences of his actions and it's all that I can concentrate on.

"I don't know your mother, Trevor," I say. "So, it's going to be hard for me to tell her anything."

He reacts so quickly that I do actually feel a flicker of terror. He grabs my wrist and pulls me down to the ground. He pins me on my back and hovers over me. His eyes are glistening with tears and his face is red with anger. I just stare right back at him. I know my face must look cold right now but I can't help myself. It's just what happens to me in times like this.

"Don't you fucking tell her or I'll fucking slit your throat," Trevor hisses.

It occurs to me that he's so unstable he could murder me right here. I don't feel terror at that realization I just accept the possibility. It was really a queer situation to be in. I could be dead in a few hours and I'm not panicking but, leave a stray piece of paper in the middle of the room and I will go into a hysterical fit. Fuck my life.

"Your mother is the last thing we need to fucking worry about," I say.

He hasn't let me go. His grip is so tight on my arms that my hands are going numb. The weight of his body pressed against my pelvis keeps my legs from moving. I'm frozen: inside and out.

"Promise me!" Trevor spits. "Promise me you won't fucking tell her!"

"I promise." I say.

I don't give a fuck but, I know if I don't say something I won't get him to settle down. We needed a plan. He still won't let go but, I see the rage ebbing away from his face.

"I need you to talk to me now, Trevor," I say.

The veins in his neck bulge and his Adam's apple bounces with every breath he takes in. I feel very unsettled when I notice how attractive he is to me right now. It's the oddest notion to come to me in a moment like this. I can't believe how fucked up I am.

"Why did you do that?" I ask.

His grip loosens, ever so slightly, but he stays planted on top of me. I don't care if he moves.

"I was tired of you shit," Trevor explains. "I wanted to show how to really cut loose."

I want to slap him yet I just can't muster up the feelings to make the action manifest itself. I want to feel something. I want to feel anything aside from this numb sensation. I just feel this driving instinct to preserve us. I can't understand it all.

"That wasn't the best place for that, Trevor," I say. "If Kimmy's family wants they could get us put in prison."

This angers him even more. He clamps down on my wrists and slams them back down on the floor. It hurts but I don't even flinch. This seems to piss him off. He has no idea that I stopped flinching in situations like this when I was a little girl. He'll never know why either.

"Well, it's your goddamn fault!" Trevor yells. "If you weren't being such a goddamn bitch, I wouldn't have done it!"

Anger broke though just then, I could feel it burning in my gullet.

"It was not my fucking fault!" I spat. "I didn't fucking set off the entire fucking pile of fireworks! That was your candy ass!"

He makes a guttural noise of rage and it only fuels my rising temper. At least I can feel angry now. I wriggle and squirm to try and get out from under him but he's stronger than me. I just spit in his face.

Trevor freezes as my saliva drips down his sharp, pointed nose and onto his lips. His upper lip and his left brow start twitching. I know I just put him over the edge but I don't care. He's a fucking idiot and I'm fucking pissed. He just completely fucked up the one good thing I had going in my life. Maybe it was my calm slipping or just nearly three decades of pent up frustration bubbling out but I literally felt hot with rage. My face was warm and I could feel the heat radiating down my neck. I hate him so fucking much right now. I hate myself too. I can't believe I was stupid enough to let this sick fuck into my life. I hated myself for giving a shit about him. I try to squirm more furiously, jerking my limbs to try and knock him off. He slams me back down with ease and I scream.

"Fuck you, Trevor! Fuck you! This isn't my fucking fault, you sack of shit! What the fuck makes you think you can do shit like that!? How fucking dare you!? I'm going to rip out your fucking throat and stuff shit in the gaping hole you use—"

He closes his mouth over mine and I feel his tongue being thrust into my mouth. I want to keep hating him but I don't. I feel him release my limbs and ease off of me a bit, shifting his weight just enough so if I want to I can leave. I pull back and take in a breath. There's no time for this but I want it now. I want him. The cops could come knocking on his door any minute and I haven't sorted anything out that needs to be set in stone. For once in my life I don't care. I push him off and straddle him. My assertive behavior drives him wild. I can see it in his eyes.

"Fuck-I love you," I gasp.

I can't believe my stupidity. I can't believe how fucking much I love him. Everything about Trevor Philips makes me want to hate him. I can't predict his actions, I never know what he's thinking and he leaves nothing but destruction in his wake. He embodies everything that terrifies me. He incarnates every aspect of life that sets off the bitch in my head and makes me want to claw off of my own flesh. But Jesus fucking Christ, I love him. He's exactly what I fucking need.

"I knew already," Trevor says.

Of course he fucking did. I trace my fingers across his lips and down along his neck.

"We better hurry," I whisper. "If the cops are coming, they'll be here soon."


	5. Even angels have their wicked schemes

Every inch of my skin throbs in the wake of the destruction I unleashed on my body. A few days have passed since Trevor literally fucking blew up the front yard of Kimmy's house. The cops never fucking showed up and I haven't heard from Kimmy either. I was right about my break down too. As soon as I got home, I had a nice bitchy crying fit. Aunt Dani didn't even blink when I went all out crazy bitch on the house. She's so fucking used to my bullshit by now that she just lets it go. She used to try to stop me when I was younger. That didn't fucking last.

Our house is so goddamn small though and once I ran out of shit to clean I went after my skin. I swear to fucking Christ, I looked like a bloody cheetah by the time I was through. I started going after my face this morning. I tried cutting my fingernails down to nubs but, it didn't help. So, now I have scratchy wool gloves on my hands to stop the scratching. The welts still haven't gone down and the pain keeps on lingering. I savor the sting though. As long as I can feel the pain, the bitch in my head isn't talking. She isn't telling me how fucking worthless I am and how disgusting it is that I pick at my skin.

It's got to be fucking three in the morning now. Anytime I try to fall asleep the bitch starts talking again and I go into a picking fit. I find it's easier to just stay up and watch the shopping channel with these itchy goddamn gloves on. I know when Trevor sees me next he'll be livid with what I've done to myself. I want to blame him for this new low but, I know none of this is really his fucking fault. Trevor didn't make me claw my fucking skin off. That's not on him. That was fucking me.

I miss Kimmy. I miss her stupid voice and dumb ideas. I keep hoping that her silence is a good sign. No cops have come so can't mean anything bad. Right? I never would've guess I'd miss that dumb bitch. Not in a million fucking years. I hated the uncertainty. If I could just find an answer to this situation then I could get my life back under fucking control. What the fuck was I thinking though?

Control is just an illusion when your boyfriend is Trevor Philips.

The fat cunt on TV is trying to sell me overpriced purses. I don't have money to waste on that bullshit. I don't even carry a fucking purse. It's impossible to organize a sack full of shit. I want to sleep but, I dread trying to lie down in the bed again. Those thoughts will creep into my mind once more and I won't be able to shut them out until I crawl back out into this cramped living room. I rather stay sleep deprived than have to face the bitch in my head another time tonight.

My phone rings. The sound startles me and I jump a little bit in the sagging couch. Who the fuck is calling at this hour? It could only be Trevor. I don't want it to be him though. I'm not in the mood for a booty call, not with my body looking like a pepperoni pizza. I pick up the receiver and listen to the static for a moment. The scabs on my cheeks radiate sharp pain as I speak.

"Hello?" I say.

"Oh my god," Kimmy sobs.

I feel my heart doing flips in my chest. Jesus Christ, I wasn't expecting her. Fuck, I'm happy to hear her voice but she sounds like she's crying. Never in our entire friendship has she called me like this. My fingers feel like they're on fire, the bitch in my head is screaming at me to start clawing at my face. Ripping open my scabs won't make the reality of this situation go away.

"Kimmy?" I say. "Fuck, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

All I can hear are her sobs. It sounds like she's got her hand over her mouth. In a house full of people I'm not surprised that she's trying to keep herself quiet.

"Kimmy," I say. "Please, we need to talk."

I hear her take in a deep breath as she tries to stifle another sob.

"Look," Kimmy says. "I can't talk long. I just have to tell you something."

Her words fill me with nothing but dread. She's calling to say goodbye. No, Kimmy. Not now.

"I'm so sorry but-" Kimmy begins. "Look, I talked my family out of pressing charges. Just—"

She is interrupted by another bout of sobs. I'm trying to hold back the tears that are welling up in my eyes. God damn you, Trevor. I've lost her because of you. I've lost my only friend, as shitty as she is, because of your stupid ass.

"I can't have you in my life-," Kimmy stammers. "-while that monster is in yours."

I take a deep breath. I don't want her to hear my sorrow. It'll be easier for her if she doesn't. I want to beg her to stay, that he's not that bad, but I know deep down that Trevor is a shitty person and so am I. Kimmy deserves someone normal in her life.

"I understand," I say.

Fuck, I sound like such a bitch. Kimmy muffles a scream. I want to reach through the phone and hug her. I want to tell her I still need her so bad but. I just don't want to hurt her anymore.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch!?" She cries.

She hangs up. I just stand there with the receiver to my ear listening to the busy signal. I feel my lips begin to quiver as the sobs start to take over. No, no no no no! Why did I have to love that bastard so fucking much? Why couldn't I just take back that stupid night at the bar and have my miserable fucking failure of a life back?

A fucking failure. It's all I ever was and it's all I'll ever be. Kimmy left me and Trevor will leave me to. I'll be back to ashes again just like every other fucking time in my life. I slam the receiver against the phone over and over and over until the plastic splits apart the electronic pieces spring out. Now I broke the goddamn phone. Aunt Dani will be pissed. The bitch in my head starts whispering again. I don't feel like fighting her right now. I rip off these stupid fucking gloves and drag the jagged remains of my nails across the scabs. The pain is sharp and sweet. I let out a shaky breath as I savor the wave of relief that washes over me.

The fresh blood makes my fingers slide across the surface of my face as my hungry nails search for more skin to destroy. I want to kill him. I love him so much but, he has fucked my life up so much already. I should never had let it get this far. I knew he was trouble. I knew he was a fucked up piece of shit that was going to destroy everything I cared about. I just can't let him go. I collapse onto my shitty bed and rake my nails across my scarred flesh. I pick and dig until it feels like my body is covered with gaping stab wounds. The pain is so overwhelming that the bitch finally shuts up. At least now that she's quiet I can sleep.

Aunt Dani did give me shit about the phone but, I knew she wouldn't make me pay for it. Her heart was too soft to make me do that right now. All I wanted was to see Trevor. He was the bane of my existence but, the only thing that could keep me going. I spent a good forty-five minutes putting on makeup to cover up my scabs. It had been quite a while since I looked this bad. I wasn't a fucking makeup artist but, I did a damn fine job. You had to get pretty close to my face to see the texture of the scabs beneath the thick layers of foundation.

Dani didn't ask me where I was going when I walked out the front door. She hasn't met Trevor yet. I don't fucking want her too either. I know she won't like him and I don't want to lose her over him too. I walk down to the corner store. It's hot as hell and there isn't a single fucking cloud in the sky. It was far too fucking sunny out for my taste. The cicadas were screeching in the trees as I pass under their branches. Fuck, this summer. It's barely half way over and I'm already aching for it to be done with.

I hate the fucking corner store. As I look over the parking lot I just want get down on my hands and knees and pick up each little piece of trash. How fucking hard is it to sweep the street? If I hadn't broken the fucking phone I wouldn't have to use this piece of shit one at the store. I enter the booth and try my best not to touch the sides. I get chills thinking about how many filthy people use this fucking thing. I could just feel my skin crawling as I stood in the booth. I pull the change out of my pocket and slide the coins one by one into the coin slot. Jesus tits, I hoped that he would answer on the first try. I certainly didn't have enough fucking change for another call.

"Yeah?" Trevor answers.

He sounds about as excited as hooker at the free clinic.

"It's me," I say. "Can you come pick me up?"

He groans with annoyance. I know he's just pretending to get me riled up.

"I can't until tonight," Trevor says. "Unlike some lazy fucks in this world I actually have a job."

I smile despite the twinge of rage that sparks within me.

"Watch it, kid, or I'll cut your balls off," I snap.

Just having this brief conversation with him is already chipping away at the heavy gloom that hangs over me.

"I'll be there around nine," Trevor says. "Don't make me fucking wait."

I don't want to hang up and I don't have to. He beats me to it. I'm not looking forward to spending the whole day alone with Dani. I hang up the phone and start heading back to her house. I keep my hands stuffed into my pockets for fear that the bitch will start whispering before I get home. Just the thought of that compulsion makes me feel a tingle in my fingers. Christ, I was setting myself off again by worrying about being set off again. It's a ridiculous fucking cycle. I clench my fists in my pockets as tight as I can. If my nails weren't stubs they'd be digging into my palms enough to draw blood. I just want to get home and stuff my hands into those shitty gloves. Speaking with Trevor has motivated me to try and save my flesh from anymore self inflicted torment.

The day goes well despite my predictions. It makes me nauseous how fucking giddy I feel about seeing Trevor. I should be absolutely miserable with Kimmy gone. At least I have my answer now. We don't have to worry about the cops anymore thanks to her. I spent the day in front of the TV again and at some point I passed out on the couch. I wake up covered in sweat with my clothes clinging to my back. Darkness has fallen and a new phone sits where the old one was. Dani's frying some abomination up in a skillet and the stench makes me wrinkle up my nose.

"What fucking time is it?" I ask.

The fat of Dani's arms jiggles as she sautés her food.

"Why's it matter? You going out again?" Dani asks.

I sit up on the couch and rub the back of my neck. My makeup probably looks like ass now. I can see it smeared on the stained pillows.

"Yeah, sorry" I say.

Her brittle hair doesn't even bounce as she shakes her head. I know she disapproves; it only took a brief conversation on the phone with Trevor for Dani to decide he was a scum bag.

"Look, I don't care what you do with your life, it just seems like your-'problems' have been worse since he's been around," Dani explains.

I'm grateful that she doesn't spew out that label I hate so fucking much. She knows better than to do that, it's an instant trigger for my pathetic ass. Ever since that ugly, bald psychologist slapped that term on me all those years ago, I've hated it.

"Yeah, I fucking know," I admit.

I see no point in lying to Dani. She knows me too well. Trevor has already turned out to be a destructive entity in my life but, I'm not ready to let him go.

"Do you want to end up like your mother?" Dani says. "If you keep up with this bullshit, that's exactly what's going to happen."

My mother is six feet underground in a grave that I haven't visited in ten years.

"That won't happen to me," I say. "I know this guy isn't marriage material."

Danny turns off the burner and scrapes off the burnt food onto her plate.

"You don't have to be married to end up like her," Dani says.

I won't tell her some insipid reassurance. I know I'm dancing with the devil. I know that every day I spend with Trevor is a day wasted. The only thing I have left to lose is Dani and she's not going anywhere. No matter how thick in the shit I end up, she'll always be there.

"I'm done with this shit," I say, waving her away.

Dani just shrugs and takes her dinner back to her bedroom. If she didn't have a job that bitch would never leave her room. Our conversation still leaves me uneasy. The bitch in my head keeps screaming that she's right. I try to scratch at my arm but, my wooly gloves are useless for inflicting pain. A car horn blares outside and I know I've been rescued from my own gnawing anxiety. I know I'm just walking straight into the arms of another demon but, I don't give a fuck.

I lock the door as I leave and Trevor continues to lay on the horn obnoxiously until I sprint over to his car. I slide into the passenger seat. His car stinks of cigarettes and he's playing that piss poor music again. His grin is gleaming in the moonlight and I feel like a little girl again. Every time I see him it's always the same. It's just like the first time I laid eyes on him. At least in the darkness he won't be able to see the wreck I've made of my face.

"Hey, sugar," He coos. "How much?"

There he goes, ruining the fucking moment. It's nothing to be fucking surprised about.

"I can always leave," I say.

It's an empty threat though. The last thing I want right now is to spend another minute in that fucking house.

"Then get the fuck out!" Trevor snaps.

I don't budge. Once he sees me reaching for my seatbelt he speeds off. I notice he's not headed in the right direction for us to be going to his apartment. I don't bother to ask. I don't honestly give a flying fuck where he's taking me.

"It's nice to see you," Trevor says.

I can't tell if he's actually being sweet or he's just prepping to drop a bomb on me.

"Are you up to something?" I ask. "I'm not in the mood for surprises."

He grips the gear stick tightly and the car jerks as he picks up speed.

"What? Are you on your fucking period or something?" Trevor asks.

He wants me angry. Why in the name of fucking Christ he wants to get my pissed off is a mystery to me.

"Kimmy called me today," I explain. "You should fucking be groveling at her feet! She talked her parents out of pressing charges. So, our sorry asses are in the clear."

He erupts with a delightful cackle. It's a divinely twisted sound that leaves me beaming. I should be terrified of him but, I'm too enamored with his company to think about fear right now.

"How is this fucking bad news?" Trevor asks. "Shit we should be celebrating!"

He'll never see the downside to the situation. He's too young still to know the value of a good fucking friend and the ache of losing one. I don't want to talk about her. I want to forget that she ever existed.

"You're right, babe," I say.

He turns up the radio as we pull up to a red light. I feel the sudden panic pressing down on my chest as the light falls on my face. Don't look over at me Trevor. Not yet. Christ, not fucking yet. I'm a fucking moron to expect him not to. He leans over to kiss me and then stops dead in his tracks. His body goes rigid and I feel like he's looking right into my fucked up soul. My heart pounds and my throat closes up as I wait for his reaction.

"What the fuck happened to your face?" Trevor asks.

He doesn't shriek like a madman, he doesn't sound hysterical. The tone in his voice is far more chilling. It possesses that icy kind of anger that is the precursor to a far more destructive state.

"The past few days have been rough," I explain.

I hold up my gloved hands so he can see the protective shield I've created for myself.

"There was nothing left to clean," I add.

I wait for him to say something but, when the light turns green he just veers off the side of the road. Car horns go off as we slide into the shoulder. My body jerks violently as he slams on the breaks. This is going to be fucking awful. I should have waited until I healed up before I saw him again. I'm going to lose him tonight because I was too fucking impatient. What a fucking waste.

He hasn't even bothered to turn off the car. That disgusting music is so loud my ears hurt. He grabs my arm and tugs me over to him. Her pushes up sleeve and inspects the wounds I've inflicted on my arm. Trevor handles me like I'm a rag doll, tossing me around so he can tear off my clothes.

"Knock it off!" I spit.

"You shut the fuck up!" Trevor snaps.

His brow starts to twitch when he sees my naked torso. Trevor's eyes dart over every fucking bloody pit that I left on the surface of my skin. I can barely breath I'm so terrified.

"Get the fuck out!" Trevor says.

I just stare at him. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes and my face contorting in greif. Not you too, Trevor. I can't lose you yet.

"No—" I say.

I sound so meek. It's absolutely fucking pathetic.

"I said: get the fuck out of my car!" Trevor screams.

He reaches across me and pushes open the car door. I start crying as he pushes me out onto the dusty road. I don't give a fuck that I'm half naked in front of God and the entire fucking world. Trevor can't leave me yet. I'm not fucking ready to let go of him. I scream at his car as he peels off down the street. His taillights disappear into the darkness and I let out a shriek of pain.

I want to fucking murder him. I want to smash every window in his shit car. How dare he fucking leave me alone and naked on the side of the road? Cars just keep driving by my crazy ass. No one wants to fuck with the fucked up scabby bitch screaming on the side of the road. The tears streaming down my face make my scabs sting. I'm shaking with pure rage and anguish. How fucking dare he leave me!? After everything he's done to me!

I hear the squeal of tires and the shouts of angry drivers. The throbbing, messy rhythm of Trevor's shitty music echoes off the streets as he comes barreling down the wrong side of the road. Cars swerve out of his way as the horns blare in protest. He screeches to a stop in front of me, the back end of his car fish tails from the hasty actions of its driver. The tires are smoking and the stink of burning rubber tickles my nostrils. It's a smell I normally can't stand but, right now I don't care. I want to smash in his face with a rock.

I run up to his car and start pounding on the window. I scream every curse word I know at his beautiful fucking face. The glass cracks from my blows and he swings open the door. It smacks in the gut and I fall back onto the ground. I'm too angry to worry about the rest of the world. I'm out for his blood and no one is going to stop me. His military boots make the gravel crunch with every step he takes towards me. His face is scrunched up while his lip and brow are twitching wildly. All I see is hate in his eyes.

I push myself off the ground and come charging at him. I'm sobbing and screaming as I swing wildly at him with a balled up fist. He's laughing at me. How fucking dare he mock me!? I swing at him again and he catches my wrist in his hands. I start kicking wildly to try and get away from him. Fuck his strength! Why can't he be fucking weaker than me?

"You fucking little punk!" I scream. "You don't leave a motherfucking woman by the side of the fucking road!"

He just keeps laughing at me. I just want to break that beautiful silver smile off his fucking face.

"You're a fucking spoiled little shit! You snotty fucking brat! I'll fucking kill you!" I shout. "I'll fucking kill you for this shit!"

Trevor swings me around and shoves up against the car. When the cold metal presses against my back I let out a cry. I've lost all the will to keep screaming words at him. I just cry out. The pain I hear in my voice is real. I cry like a little girl. I cry like the little girl that got the shit beat out of her on a regular basis. My chest and throat burn from the swirling brew of hatred and anguish that's consuming me. I fall into his chest. My tears and flaky makeup smearing all over the shit green fabric of his uniform. I feel my wrists slip out his rough hands. I want him to hold me but, I don't feel the blessed pressure of his hands on my back. His arms are tensing up like he's clenching his fists.

"Knock this shit off," Trevor spits.

I don't know what comes over me. I can't explain where I found the power to do this but, I slap him across the face. My hand stings from palm to finger tips. His face is red where I hit him and he's clenching his jaw. I doubt it actually hurt him, at least not physically. Trevor looks angry but there's a new undertone in his expression now. I see a scared little boy trying to act tough.

"You…you don't fucking leave people like that," I say.

I try to sound firm. Snot and tears are making my skin feel sticky. I don't have any tears left in me. I'm shaking, not because I'm scared, I just can't believe what I just did. I hit him. I fucking hit my Airman.

"I-I'm sorry," Trevor stammers.

Fuck he sounds like a kid again. I just can't fucking deal when he acts like this. I made this happen. I made him feel this way. I'm a goddamn monster.

"I shouldn't have done that," I say.

I know words can't take back that mistake. I feel the anger falling away and that cold calculating instinct kicks in. We need to leave. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. I feel his hands fall to the small of my back and pull me close to him. He's not gone. Oh fuck, he's not gone. I can feel his breath on my neck. Say something to me. Tell me I'm right and you're here to stay, Trevor.

"Don't ever fucking hit me again," Trevor says.

"Don't you fucking leave me," I hiss.

I feel his hand slide down my back and cup my ass. He grips it so tightly it hurts. Trevor's other hand grabs me by the back of the head and pulls me in for a kiss. Every kiss I share with him is so raw and messy. I'm smearing my snot and makeup all over his face and I don't even care. I thrive on his rough touch as it keeps me pinned against his hard body. With every hungry thrust of his tongue in my mouth, I know he wants me. It's that blazing desire I crave. It makes my fingertips tingle and silences all the pain in my soul.

I reach for his belt but he pulls away. Trevor's brown eyes almost seem like they have a fire in them. He opens up the back door of the car and pushes me in. I've forgotten about the need to leave. I'm too hungry for him now to even think. I pull him down on top of me and lean in for another long kiss. As the rough fabric of his uniform brushes across my scabs it stings with the most divine sensation I've ever felt. I pull of his shirt and rub my fingers through the thin patch of hair that's spread across the broad surface of his chest. I don't think he realizes how beautiful he is. I can't believe someone so perfect is willing to touch me at all.

"Tell me, you'll never leave," I whisper as I undo his belt.

His eyes roll into the back of his head as I reach down his pants.

"Tell me," I hiss.

Sweat is dripping down his face and his brow is furrowed as he tries to push past his desire to meet my demands.

"I'll-never leave," Trevor gasps.

I pull him close to me and relish the hungry gropes of his broad hands all over my body. The car is becomes stifling hot and the windows fog over as we make love. I want nothing else from life but to have him here forever. I love the chaos Airman Philips has unleashed on my world. I love how he fucking makes me hate him and adore him even more desperately within the span of two hours. I want him to destroy me. Every grunt of pleasure that passes through his thick lips sends a delightful chill down my spine. You're mine, Trevor Philips, and I'm never letting you go.

Our moment is shattered by a crisp knock on the window. At first, Trevor doesn't stop even though I've gone rigid. The blinding light of a police officer's spotlight flashes in the fogged window and I squint. I can hear the muffled voice of the cop as he knocks on the window again.

"Babe, stop," I whisper.

He nibbles on my neck and I'm able to forget the pressing problem for a brief moment as goose bumps erupt across my flesh. I push him off gingerly.

"Trev, c'mon the cops are here," I say.

Trevor groans like he did when I called him this morning. It's like his mother just told him to stop playing video games and take out the garbage. The cop starts pounding on the window again and his shouts are more aggressive.

"Alright, alright," Trevor groans.

He peels himself off of me and I reach for his uniform to cover myself up. Even when I was a kid, I never got a visit from the cops when I was getting hot and heavy in a car. Leave it to Trevor Philips to let me experience every possible thrill in life. I watch Trevor's bare, sweaty shoulder bob as he cranks the window down. Jesus Christ, I hope he doesn't piss off this cop. It stings my eyes when the cop flashes his light in my face. I must look a fucking mess to this guy. Yes, I'm trashy. Get the fuck over it.

"You folks can't be doing this out here," The cop barks. "You realize you're parked by a major intersection?"

Trevor laughs in a completely fucking charming way. I don't think he even realizes what a fucking seductive beast he is.

"This isn't a laughing matter, son," The cop says. "We got a call about a domestic dispute. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

I pull the shirt of his uniform farther up my body. It makes me queasy the way the cop's face keeps glancing over at me. How is it that just five minutes ago I didn't give a shit about getting it on in the middle of a fucking street and now I feel self conscious?

"Does it look like we've been disputing anything?" Trevor asks.

I can't see his face but, I imagine he's wearing that devilish smirk right now. His hair is sticking out all over the place and his muscles are glistening in the flashlight's glow. This isn't exactly the best time to marvel in his perfection though. The cop flashes his light on me and I lift up my hand to block out the light.

"Is that a uniform, son?" The cop pries.

The cop's tone has changed. It sounds softer now. Christ, I'm grateful right now that Trevor is enlisted. As soon as somebody realizes you're a military man they're willing to let you get away with a ton of shit.

"It sure is," Trevor declares in a sing-song voice.

I wish this pig would get his spotlight off me but, I don't see that happening anytime soon. He probably thinks I'm just some hitchhiking hooker that picked up a sweet innocent Airman. My appearance does fit the part of a meth head perfectly right now. The cop turns off his flashlight. Finally, fucking finally. I let out a sigh of relief. He leans in to the window with a softer expression on his face.

"Listen, son, you and I both know that you know better than this, " The cop explains. "I'm just gonna ask you two take this home, alright? And I'll forget this happened."

I'm not fucking religious but, I'm praising Jesus right now.

"Well, that's mighty kind of you, sir," Trevor says.

If the cop knew him better he'd be able to detect the sarcasm in Trevor's voice.

"Have a good night, folks" The cop says as he tips his hat.

Trevor cranks the window back up and throws a delighted smile my way. The flashing red and blue lights of the cop car flicker off and I watch the black and white vehicle pull away.

"Wasn't he just a fucking peach?" Trevor says.

I just shake my fucking head. I can barely remember how just moments ago I was crying on the side of the road with nothing but murderous intent. How are we already laughing and rutting like kids again? I toss Trevor his shirt and he pulls it over his shoulders and starts to button it up.

"I don't fucking care," I say. "Let's get out of here."

I crawl in to the front seat and dig for my tattered shirt on the floor. My hands brush across the thread bare fabric. It's stretched to hell and when I pull it over my head it reminds me about the dark place that Trevor and I had fallen in to earlier. Trevor crawls into the front seat and starts up the engine. His car sounds like shit when it runs and it doesn't help to have that shitty music pumping out of the speakers.

He looks like a ray of fucking sunshine as he pulls the car back out in to the traffic. My heart is soaring right now too and I know how fucked up it is. We're fucked up. Trevor starts rambling on about how many times he's gotten out of tickets because of his uniform. I'm only half listening. It shows his age the way he brags on and on. I'm not really sure if that's the case though. I just never had anything to brag about. I love the way he lights up when he talks about the Force. His need to be a pilot is real and I envy that direction he possesses in his life. He knows exactly where he's fucking going.

I just know if Trevor keeps it up he could lose it all. I'll never tell him this though. He would just fucking lose his shit and call me a bitch. I worry about the storm that will come if he loses all this. I'm just a side dish on his fucking dinner plate. I won't be enough to keep him from going over the edge if he gets kicked out. But right now, he's got this dory childish grin plastered to his face as he talks and nothing else matters to me. All I can do is savor this moment, right here, when I feel like a million fucking dollars just because Trevor Philips is smiling.

Just because he's mine.


	6. And you take that to new extremes

I can't remember the last time I spent more than a few hours at my aunt's house. I had just stopped by to pick up some more clothes when Dani forced me to sit down and play catch-up. She makes me feel like a fucking teenager when she pulls this shit. I'm sitting on this god forsaken couch with a room temperature cup of tea in my hands. I look at my knuckles and the faded pink blotches that are dotted all over them. Most of my wounds have healed since my last picking fest but, the scars will still remain for years to come. I try not to think about how nice my skin would look if I didn't fucking pick. I want to just run out the front door with my clothes but, I decide to humor my aunt instead.

I've been spending practically every waking moment with Trevor recently. I know it has Dani worried. This isn't her fucking life though. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful she lets me stay under her roof rent free. Fuck, I'm not even her kid; I'm not even family to her. I forget that fact too often. Dani's heart is so fucking big and I treat her like crap. If I were her, I would've kicked my ass to the curb by now. But fuck, she does really feel like family and I love her to death. That's why she's Aunt Dani. She's the closest thing I've ever had to proper fucking family.

Dani crosses the kitchen and sits down in the busted recliner next to the couch. She tries to plaster on a sweet smile. It's a tactic she uses often when she wants to get me to open up. I wish it was as effective as it used to be. I don't feel like having a conversation with her but, the immense guilt I feel over the way I treat her is starting to eat at me too much to resist her.

"How have things been?" Dani asks in a sugary sweet voice. "I never get to see you anymore!"

She sounds so nonchalant. I almost believe that she isn't worried about me.

"It's fine," I say.

Of course its fine, Trevor and I haven't had a screaming match in three days that's a new record. I won't share that with her though.

"You look so nice today," Dani says. "-your skin looks good."

That's just her subtle way of asking about my bullshit and the bitch in my head. If Trevor didn't trash his apartment everyday my skin would still be a mess. I want to believe he does that on purpose, just to keep my hands away from my flesh, but I doubt he puts that much thought into his actions.

"Thanks," I say.

The last thing I want to discuss is my problems right now. There's an incredibly awkward moment of silence. Dani just sips at her mug of tea with that insipid fucking smile on her face. Being in this situation is incredibly uncomfortable. I just want to fucking claw my way out of the walls and go running back to Trevor.

"H-how's Trevor?" Dani asks.

She isn't beating around the bush today. That's a nice fucking change. Fuck, I should be honest with her. I should tell her how fucking screwed up we are. He's sick and I'm sick, Dani. We're the farthest from a fucking healthy relationship a person could possibly be. It's probably a great idea for you to call the cops, honestly.

"He's great," I lie. "He's almost done with flight school, I think."

I can see the disappointment flicker across Dani's face. She knows I'm full of shit but, she won't call me out on it. I appreciate it. I really do, she won't tell me what to do with my life until I admit that I'm fucking up. I haven't even come close to that yet.

"You'll have to tell me when he graduates." Dani says. "We should throw a party for him."

She partially means what she's saying. She would throw a party for him, I'm sure of that, but not because she actually is proud of him. No, she just wants to get him around to scope him out more properly. Dani's a fucking social worker; she can read the signs of abuse. She already knows this is a bad place for me to be but, she wants to have more ammunition before she takes action.

"I'm sure his family will come out for it," I say.

Fuck, that could actually be true. He never fucking talks about them but, I'm sure they're out there. I've thought about the time he begged me not to rat him out to his mother. She must still be alive. I just have no fucking clue who she is or where she could be.

"Lovely," Dani says.

She doesn't seem to find that the least bit lovely at all.

"Have you signed up for any classes this fall?" Dani asks. "The deadline's getting close."

"I haven't. I don't plan on it." I admit.

Dani takes another sip of her tea to try and mask the panic my statement causes her. She can read between the lines. If I'm not taking classes, I have to pay rent. If I have to pay rent I can't stay with her. That only means one thing.

"Oh," Dani says. "What are your plans then?"

You don't really want to know my plans Dani, let's be honest.

"I should really get going," I say. "I have to catch the bus."

I set my mug down on the peeling finish of the coffee table.

"Of course," Dani says. "I won't keep you, dear."

I know I'm disappointing you, Dani. If only you could be in my skin and feel what I feel for this man. The way he's driving me crazy is the only thing that keeps me sane anymore. It makes absolutely no fucking sense and I won't have it any other way. I don't even say goodbye when I leave. I never say goodbye to Dani. If I ever say it, that means I might not see her again. I'm throwing away my education and my future to be with Trevor but, I'm not dumb enough to toss aside my safety net. Dani will be there to pick up the pieces when this finally falls apart.

The lateness of the summer weighs heavy on my mind. I haven't heard from Kimmy in forever and the bitch in my head keeps nagging me about how much of a fuck up I am for quitting school again. The only time she shuts up is when I'm methodically cleaning Trevor's apartment or I have his hands all over me. As I make my way to the bus stop, I think about how he's taken to nagging me. Trevor's always pushing me to find some new way to manage my bullshit. One night, he forced me to try some of his cigarettes. That shit was fucking disgusting. I couldn't even begin to comprehend why the fuck people found those things relaxing. Trevor called me an idiot. He said I was doing it wrong but, I never bother to try that shit again.

I know Dani would be pissed to find out but, he brought home some pot for me to try too. Trevor made sure I was smoking that shit properly, trust me. That shit actually fucking worked too. I went through the whole goddamn bag in one day and it was the greatest fucking day of my life. I didn't hear the bitch all day and I didn't feel even a shred of panic. Trevor was a big fan of my new attitude too, at least until he found out I smoked all the weed without him. Things got really ugly that night. He stills buys me weed but, now he rations it out like he's my fucking pharmacist.

I haven't smoked up at all today. I knew I was going to stop by at Aunt Dani's and I didn't want her to see me high. I'm regretting that choice now though. Every person I pass, as I walk down the street, just sets off a whole new wave of paranoia. Can they see the blotches on my skin? What do they think of my scars? Do I look like a fucking cracked out bitch? Every piece of litter on the street makes me feel like fire ants are crawling all over me. Everything has to be fucking perfect, absolutely fucking perfect. Why doesn't anybody fucking get that except me? Do they not fucking realize how bad shit gets when stuff isn't perfect?

I pick up my pace once I catch a glimpse of the broken bench at the bus stop. Everything here is a mess. I can't bring myself to sit down on the chipped plastic surface of the bench. It's been splattered with a thick, mysterious, brown goo. The sight of it is making my hands shake. Why does everything in this pisspot of a town have to be such a goddamn disaster? Oh, that's fucking right it's because this is the fucking ass end of North Yankton: the redneck capital of America. I shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from picking to silence the bitch in my head.

I try to focus on the fat blunt I'll get to smoke when I get back to Trevor's. We'll have those rancid microwave burritos and fuck. It'll be fucking splendid. It seems like an eternity passes before the bus actually comes. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon by the time I take my seat. The leather seats stink of piss and I try not to think about the thousands of asses that have shared this surface in the past. It's unbearable to face my surroundings. I picture Trevor's crooked smile and it makes it easier for me to bear the gnawing disgust I feel about this bus.

It scares me how effective that is for me. I'm in this so fucking deep now I hardly worry about my well being anymore. Yes, it's a solid fucking fact that this is bad and I'm throwing my life in the garbage by being with him but, what's the point of letting it get to me? I'm in love with a psychopath. That's just how it fucking is. Sometimes when I'm screaming in Trevor's face for some stupid ass reason I remind myself of my father. Dani was so fucking worried I'd end up dead like mom but, she never thought that I would just end up like my dad. I just don't see life in prison in my future. I'm a fuck up, but I'm not a goddamn murderer.

My stop comes up and I bolt out of my seat. I won't even let my hand touch the slick poles by the door. As far as I'm concerned, every surface in this god forsaken bus is covered in an invisible layer of scum. I take care not to let the clothes I have tucked under my arm brush against the door on my way out. The bus shoots a plume of smog in my face as it drives off. I cough and cover my mouth to try and keep the foul shit out of my lungs.

I don't have any trouble getting onto the base anymore. I'm just like every other sad civilian bitch that's chasing after some hot soldier tail. Trevor gave me a key to his apartment not that long ago. Yeah, we're fucking at this already. I don't dare give him a key to Dani's house though. That's not my fucking place, I'm just staying there. I can hear a fuck ton of noise coming from Trevor's building as I get closer. I'm not sure if it's his shouts but, I can't mistake the sound of glass smashing and furniture being tossed around. I can think of no one else though that would unleash that kind of rage on their own stuff.

Once I get up to the door, I know it's him. Something smashes into the door and I hear a loud crack as the wood on the other side splinters. It sounds like the type of anger that I won't be able to smother. Who the fuck am I kidding? I can never quell Trevor's temper. I fumble with my keys and struggle to get the door open. I let it swing into the apartment slowly. I watch a lamp go flying across the room and smash against the wall. Shattered glass, splintered wood and trash is strewn everywhere. I creep in and close the door behind me. No one needs to see this. I'm surprised the security forces haven't showed up yet.

He's so wrapped up in his own rage that he doesn't notice me. He upends the mattress and starts kicking the sheets and pillows across the floor. His face is cherry red, the veins in his neck are bulging and throbbing as he shouts swear words out to the universe.

"Babe?" I say.

I try to sound as matronly as possible. Sometimes that works for him and I can make him coo like a fucking baby.

"Don't you fucking 'babe' me!" Trevor shrieks. "You shut your fucking mouth! You have no fucking idea what I'm dealing with right now!"

He's right, I don't know what the fuck he's dealing with right now. I don't know if this is entirely my fault but, I just get the feeling that it isn't about me. Things have been good lately. Not that this means anything. Shit can turn on a dime for us.

"Those fucking bastards!" Trevor screams.

He slams his boot into the wall and leaves a nice fucking whole in the plywood. I won't talk. There's no point to it right now.

"They fucking think they can push me around!? Bullshit! I'm Trevor –fucking-Philips and fucking nobody fucks with me!" He goes on.

I watch Trevor slam his fist into the wall over and over until the skin on his knuckles bursts and I can hear the sick crack of bone against wood. I can't let this go on anymore. I run over to him and grab his arm before he slams it into the wall again. Trevor tries to yank his arm out of my grasp but I've latched on to him. He growls and lifts up his other arm. I brace myself for the impact. He's never hit me before but, I wouldn't put it past him. I watch his fist come crashing down, fully expecting it to smash into my nose. Instead he just comes to a stop; his fist hovering inches away from my face. I don't flinch. I never flinch.

I just look him straight in the face. His mouth has contorted into a furious sneer but, his eyes are glistening with tears. Has the inevitable finally happened? The one I've seen coming from the start?

"Go ahead," I say with a level voice. "Hit me. If it's my fault, I deserve it."

His nostrils flare as he takes in a series of deep breaths. He lowers his fist and I keep my gaze fixed on him. The anger is starting to slip away from his expression. His bottom lip trembles like a child who's been beat up on the play ground and his eyes sparkle with tears. I hold his injured hand in mine. Blood is pouring out of the wounds and dripping onto his boots. It doesn't bother me, at least not right now. The sight of blood can't bother a person who draws blood on a regular basis. I trace my thumb over the smooth surface of the undamaged portion of his hand.

"What happened?" I ask.

I feel like a goddamn nanny right now. Only Trevor can bring this out of me.

"Th-they're saying I'm-" Trevor says.

His voice is trembling and it's breaking my fucking heart.

"They're saying I'm not stable," Trevor says. "They sat me down in a room full of fucking suits. They want me to get a fucking psych eval."

So, it's finally happening. I knew he wasn't going to make it through flight school. I knew the Air Force would never let someone like Trevor pilot one of their jets. I wish I could stop his world from falling to pieces. I wish I could convince his superiors to just give this to him. They won't listen to a crazy bitch like me though. They don't realize that by stealing this dream from him, they're unleashing a monster on the rest o f the world.

"You think they're trying to discharge you?" I ask.

I know they fucking are but, I'm not telling him that.

"Why the fuck else would they make me go through this shit?" Trevor cries. "The whole fucking world is just out to fucking get me! I can't let this happen! I won't fucking let them take this from me!"

"No one's out to get you," I say.

There's so much more I want to say but, I don't want him to turn his rage on me too. I can't lie to him and say everything will work out. I can't say he'll get to be a fucking fighter pilot and we'll get a pretty fucking house with a white picket fence and have a bunch of snotty kids. That life isn't meant for shit bags like us.

"I need this!" Trevor sobs.

Tears are streaming down his face and he is shaking like a leaf. I want to be angry at the Force for this but, I agree with them. It would be the worst fucking idea in the world to give this job to Trevor.

"Shhh," I coo. "Come sit, let me fix you up."

I lead him over to a spot on the floor that's relatively clear. I guide him down to the floor and plant a kiss on his forehead, ruffling his hair before I head into the bath room. The bitch has nothing to say to me right now. I'm too caught up in taking care of my Airman. I can still hear his desperate sobs as I gather up the first aid kit in the cabinet. It seems like a thousand years ago now that he was tending to the welts I picked on my shoulders.

When I come back out of the bathroom; I can't take the sight of him. Trevor's curled up like a kid who just skinned his knee. His pain is real and I can't do anything to make it go away. I kneel down next to him and neatly set out the supplies I'll need. As I peel open the disinfectant wipe, I flash him a warm smile.

"This is going to sting a little, okay?" I say.

Fuck, I sound like his mother. I take up his bloody hand and dab the wounds with the wipe. He takes in a sharp breath when the chemicals touch his flesh. I'm amazed that the pain actually bothers him, it seems like he's been through much worse in his life. I wipe away the blood and let my eyes flutter up to meet his. Tears are still glistening on his cheeks but, he seems to have calmed down now. At least, I hope he has. I laugh halfheartedly and get back to patching up his hand.

"You really did a number on yourself this time, Trev," I say.

I weave the bandages between his fingers and around his knuckles. He flinches when I pull it tight. When I'm done, I hold his hand up to my lips and plant delicate kisses along his bandaged knuckles.

"There," I say as I stroke some hair away from his forehead. "You'll be fine."

His eyes fill up with tears again and I feel like a complete fucking failure. He's wracked by another wave of sobs. I pull his head down to lie it on my lap. All I can do is let him cry. I can't fix this like I fixed his hand. Trevor's a special kind of broken that can never be repaired. I run my fingers through his hair while he trembles in my arms.

"How do you fucking do that?" Trevor sobs.

I gaze down at him. His face is red and raw. Jesus Christ, this poor fucking kid. I never had a dream like he did; I never had anything like this to be shattered. His devastation is completely alien to me. I wish I had some sagely advice to give him but, I've got nothing for this. Trevor will just have to ride this one out. He's sick in the head and he'll face the stigma of that for the rest of his fucking life. I learned that lesson long ago and it's still a bitter pill to swallow. I don't think Trevor will ever accept that though.

"How do I do what?" I ask.

"How do you keep it together like that?" Trevor says. "When shit gets bad, you just turn into-a different person."

"Only for you, babe," I say.

At least lately it seems like it's only for him. I feel like I'm a million years old with him lying in my lap like this. I just keep stroking his hair like he's a goddamn dog and the repetitive movement puts me in a trance. I could just listen to the sound of his gurgled breathing for the rest of my damn life and I would die fucking happy. It's quite possible he'll be the death of me too. By this point, I feel obligated to look after him. I only can wonder where this mother of his is. I just know she's not fucking here and won't be anytime soon.

We fall asleep in that twisted mass of psychological dysfunction. My back is screaming when I wake. My neck creeks as my head lulls back up. Trevor is still sleeping like a baby. From the teal glow coming in the window, I know dawn has broken. I don't want to wake him up. I don't want him to face this day at all but, it's an impossibility for me to make all this disappear. I'm not fucking God and that's the only person who can remedy this situation. I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. He just twitches away and rolls over so his face is buried in my lap. Normally, I'd be all for this but not today.

I tap the side of his face gently to try and get him up. He grumbles beneath his breath and it brings a smile to my face. He lets out another groan and rolls over. His groggy eyes flutter open. They're red and swollen from a night spent weeping. For a moment he actually looks happy to wake up with me here but, that doesn't last. His face scrunches up in anger and he pushes himself off of me.

"God fucking damn it!" Trevor swears. "I need to get the fuck out of here!"

I ease myself off the floor. It was really fucking stupid of me to fall asleep in this position. I will be paying for it for days to come still.

"Trev," I say.

He ignores me and frantically rummages through the closet and pulls out his spare uniform.

"Trev," I say again.

This is useless. He runs into the bathroom and I watch him splash some cold water on his face. He rips off his clothes and gets into his semi-clean uniform.

"Trev!" I scream.

He finally stops. The look he gives me could turn anyone's blood to ice. I've seen it so many fucking times by now but, it still makes me feel uneasy.

"What!?" He snaps.

His shirt is completely buttoned the wrong way and his hair is a mess. I slowly start to undo his buttons and put them through the right holes.

"You need to calm the fuck down before you go see them," I explain. "Play it cool, babe, and everything will be fine."

My advice isn't going to be enough to save him today. He's not going to be able to lie his way out of this one. I snatch the comb off the sink and run it through his hair a few times.

"Enough with this shit!" Trevor snaps as he slaps my hands away.

I step aside and let him tear off into the living room. I watch him jump around as he tries to slip on his boots and stuff the hem of his pants down inside them. He still looks a mess. There's no way he's even remotely in regs. They'll give him shit for that. He's already going into this with a disadvantage. He still seems completely oblivious to the chaos that surrounds him.

"Where are my fucking keys?" Trevor barks.

He just glares at me with those furious eyes. He'll take this out on me. I already know the outcome but, he hasn't admitted to it yet. I know I'm going to be blamed for it. He just roars at me when I take no action to help him. He tears up the tiny apartment even more in a last ditch attempt to locate his keys. I reach down into my pocket and pull mine out. I toss them at him. They bounce off his back and land on the ground. It's enough to grab his attention for now.

"Be cool, babe," I remind him.

He snatches they shiny keys off the ground and they jangle in his shaky hand.

"Just shut up," He snaps.

I know his temper today is just a defense mechanism. He's scared shitless and the only way he can show it is by lashing out at me. He runs into the bathroom for one last check in the mirror. It won't help. No matter how sharp he looks today, it'll be his last day as an Airman. I grab his arm and pull him towards me before he flies out the door.

"For good luck," I say as I kiss him on the cheek.

He yanks his arm away from me and says, "Goddamn, woman, I need to go!"

When he slams the door behind him, the silence of the apartment becomes too much for me. I survey the destruction that has been laid out around me. Without him here, I feel the gnawing at the back of my mind to make things perfect for him. The bitch in my head starts to whisper hateful thoughts to me. I can't repeat the things she says to me. It makes me want to cry and I can feel the fear gripping my heart. Maybe if I make it perfect before he comes home, maybe somehow, that will make things better. Fuck it all, I know it won't make a good goddamn difference. I have no power over this turn of events. Nothing I can do will save Trevor from the cruelty of his fate. All I can fucking do is turn this place into a fucking picture perfect, magazine ready, home and what fucking good will that do? No amount of tits and lipstick is going to sooth the anguish of Trevor Philips after today.

I'm sorry, Trevor, you're going to fail. They're going to give you an empty label like they gave me. It's going to tear your soul in half and you're going to want to bleed out on the side of the road until you have no life left in you. They'll take everything you ever hoped and dreamed for and leave you with nothing but a piece of paper and a meaningless diagnosis. Everyone will hate you, except me.

I get down on my knees and start picking up the splintered remains of a dresser drawer. The bitch is screeching like a banshee in my head. No amount of my bullshit rituals were going to silence her today. I feel like shit for not giving it to him straight. At least I can help him pick up the pieces when everything comes crashing down. Welcome to the fucked up world, Trevor. No one is your friend except the voices in your head and I'm too stupid to listen to mine.


	7. But you'll always be my hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt the need to make a statement before this chapter. There are scenes in this chapter that deal with self harm, which can be a trigger for some people. I am by no means trying to glorify self harm. My intent is just to illustrate another facet of the Narrator's state of mental health.
> 
> If you feel that you won't be able to handle reading scenes that contain this subject than, I recommend you don't read this chapter.

Airman Trevor Philips changed after he was kicked out of the Force. It took about a month for all the paperwork to go through. If it wasn't bad enough that they stole his dream, they also slapped the label "dishonorable" on his discharge papers. I could've fucking strangled him. They were willing to give him disability benefits for his newly diagnosed mental disorder but, he spit in his commander's face. At least he didn't fucking hit the bastard or he'd be in prison right now. Believe it or not, Dani took us in. I was fucking shocked.

She laid down some very strict ground rules and I knew Trevor was going to hate it. I had to get a job. It wasn't a big deal to me; I figured that was coming as soon as I heard about Trevor's discharge. She didn't want any fighting going on under her roof either. It's not like I ever told her about how bad our fights could get but, Dani was too fucking smart for my bullshit. Christ on a crutch, it was pointless for her to lay down that rule though. After the first time we started going at it in the front yard, Dani changed her stance on the matter. There was no stopping us. I was shocked that she never called the cops on us. She started spending less time around the house after that.

Trevor had some rules laid down on him too. She wanted him to find a job and she gave him three months to do it. I thought it was pretty fucking generous but, that was before we found out just how fucking detrimental a dishonorable discharge can be to finding new employment. It didn't help that he completely fucked up every interview. I managed to land a job flipping burgers for minimum fucking wage. It was the best fucking gig I could get with a handful of college classes that didn't add up to anything remotely close to a useful skill.

I saw Trevor even less now than I saw Dani. I never fucking knew where he was or what he was fucking up to. Whenever I did see him he was either drunk off his ass or high as a fucking kite. He was always pissed off with me too. It was always over something that was complete and utter bullshit. I wasn't fucking him enough, I wasn't giving him enough freedom, I didn't understand the pain he was going through and of course I was cheating on him somehow. I fucking had no time to find somebody else to fuck. Where the fuck he was getting this idea from was a mystery to me.

Dani was actually in tonight but, shocker of shockers, Trevor was gone again. I could hear the dull sound of Dani's TV in her bedroom when I came back home from work. I felt fucking disgusting every time I got off work. There was always a thin layer of grease all over my skin and it would take me an hour of scrubbing in the shower before I felt clean enough to shut up the bitch in my head. She never really shuts up though anymore. I get no fucking relief.

I walk into the pathetic bathroom with its mint green tiles. I strip off my hideous uniform and turn on the shower. I can't look at my reflection in the mirror. I've probably aged ten years in the past six months or so. I don't want to see the scars from my picking on that haggard face. It's just too fucking ugly of a sight. I wait until the shower water is scalding hot. As soon the room fills with thick white steam, I know it's ready. This ritual is new to me. The water sears my flesh once I step in. I still gasp from the pain since I'm not used to it yet. I pluck the abrasive luffa off the shelf and start attacking my filthy skin with it. I scrub until my flesh is raw and swollen. Today was an awful day. I keep scrubbing until little beads of blood start poking out from the tender layers of skin.

By the time I finish my ritual, my whole body feels like it's being stung by a thousand angry hornets. Even as I wrap the towel around my body, the soft fabric makes my skin sting. The bitch will be quiet for a few minutes now. I walk back into my room, I'm sorry, our room. Fuck, Trevor's never here anymore. I feel like it just doesn't seem fit to call it 'our' room. I slip into some pajamas and I experience a whole new level of pain as the fabric brushes against my skin. It will shut that goddamn bitch's mouth for a bit longer.

My body aches for sleep but, I don't want to deal with the intrusive thoughts that are destined to come with that endeavor. I won't have to deal with them just yet. The phone rings. I don't want to think about who is calling at this hour. I walk like a zombie into the kitchen and pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" I say.

I can't get over how fucking worn out my voice sounds now.

"Heeey, sugar. I've got a teensy bit of a problem here."

It's Trevor and the way he is slurring his speech tells me he's got some type of substance pumping through his veins.

"Where are you, Trevor?" I demand.

I'm not in the mood for his shit tonight. I want him home, in bed, next to me.

"I may have gotten arrested," Trevor explains.

Jesus fucking Christ, I knew this was going to happen. Why the fuck did it have to be tonight?

"Arrested for fucking what?" I spit.

I will break his stupid fucking neck for this.

"I was just fucking -well shit. I was fucking a hooker and—"

"You were fucking what!?" I scream.

If I could reach through the phone and wrap my fingers around his throat, I fucking would. How fucking dare he! Who the fuck does he think he is? I spend all fucking day cranking out shitty food for disgusting, red faced bitches for fucking chump change and he's throwing my money at some filthy, goddamn slut.

"Just shut the fuck up and listen to me!" Trevor snaps. "I need you to come bail me out! Can you do that massive fucking favor for me?! For fucking once could you have my back?"

He might as well be speaking Chinese into the phone. Fuck the money I was going to have to throw away to bail him out. Fuck the cops. He stuck his dick in another woman. That son of a fucking bitch.

"How many hookers have you fucked, Trevor?" I press. "How many fucking hookers do I need to murder?"

He screams a string of curse words at me and then hangs up. I slam the phone back on the wall and slip on some shoes. I storm across the house and pound on Dani's bedroom door. I hear the sound of her bed creaking as she gets up to answer. She opens the door just a crack. I can't even see her face on the other side.

"What's going on?" Dani asks.

I doubt she didn't fucking hear me screaming into the phone.

"Trevor's in jail," I say.

Dani lets out a heavy sigh and opens her door all the way. She looks like fucking shit. Who the fuck cares though? We all look like shit in this house.

"We don't have the money to bail him out," Dani says.

I rake my nails across my arm. I can feel the skin tearing beneath my fingers. I had to do it. I just had to fucking cause pain to something. I can see Dani's eyes lock right on to the fresh wounds I've created. I don't give a fuck that she is seeing this.

"Then he'll just have to sit in that fucking cell until morning, won't he?" I snap.

I storm off into my room and slam the door behind me. I will rip out his throat. I will cut off his dick and stick it on a pike in the front yard. The bitch in my head whispers about the way he's fucking these other women. Those filthy skanks with track marks all over the arms and missing teeth have had their claws on Trevor. Does he fucking whisper dirty shit in their ear like he does to me? Are they prettier than me? Are they younger than me? I will murder every last one of them. They stole my money and they stole my man. I want them all dead.

I'm trapped here in this fucking room. No one is going to be murdered. Not even, Trevor. I'm beyond the point that cleaning will satisfy the cunt that's screaming in my head. I just start digging at the tears I've made in my arm. I can feel the blood oozing out of the wounds as I tear them farther open. The pain isn't enough. Tears are streaming down my face because the pain is so bad but, I still can't silence the nagging voice in my head. The bitch keeps planting images of Trevor's bare ass grinding between the thighs of another woman with perfect skin. I can't push these nightmares out of my head no matter how deeply I drive my nails into my flesh. I see him kissing them, groping them, licking them. I can hear his glorious laugh in my head and it feels like my heart is collapsing in on itself.

I need something more than my fingernails. I rip open my dresser drawers and paw through our clothes. He keeps a utility knife in here. I know he fucking does. That would be fucking perfect. I've never gone this far before. I see his face nuzzling into a pair of young plump breasts. I see his hand traveling up a perfect creamy thigh. My hand wraps around the smooth plastic surface of the utility knife and I tear it out of the drawer. I fumble with it like a child. I pull out all the wrong tools until finally I get the dull stubby knife to stick out.

The bitch makes me see his face as he climaxes inside another fucking woman's cunt. I take the knife to my flesh. I will cut this fucking bitch out of my fucking body. I will never hear her bullshit ever again. I run the blade along my palm and watch the deep crimson blood bubble up out of the cut. The pain is sharp and sweet and my eyes roll into the back of my head as I savor it. I take the blade to the dull brown scars that are scattered along my arms. Another vision of Trevor flashes across my mind and I start scraping off my old scars with the knife. Blood is dripping down my arm and splattering on the brown carpet.

I have evolved into a new kind of monster tonight, Trevor, and it's all your fucking fault.

I wake in the morning to an arm covered with thick, dark, hard scabs. I still feel exhausted. My eyes hurt from the amount of crying that went on last night. The bitch is already whispering to me. My arm is still screaming from every cut I made. These wounds run deep and these scars will never fade. They're to remind me of how you hurt me, Trevor. I want you to see them every fucking day for the rest of your goddamned life. I feel too numb to care about work. I don't want to move. The house is silent and that can only mean that I am alone, again.

After all of this suffering, I still feel a deep longing to wrap my arms around Trevor's waist. How can I still be so infatuated with him? How can I still need to hear his voice and see his smile? I don't want him to go to prison for something this stupid. Fuck, I don't even know what happens when you get picked up for buying a prostitute. I don't even know if he has any priors. I'm pretty sure that shit makes a difference. It wouldn't fucking surprise me if he did.

Here I am again, calculating the factors of the situation and trying to figure out just exactly what my options are. I owe nothing to Trevor, why must this happen now? Why must I fucking feel so compelled to bail him out of this shit storm that he's created? My anger is gone and the bitch is quiet. So, this is how it's going to be? I don't get to mourn this massive loss of trust? The numbness has taken a hold of me now. Damn it, I'm hurt. I don't want this. I can hear the front door slam shut.

It's him.

I don't move. I just lay sprawled out on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I need to feel angry. I need to confront him about this. I don't need to fix this. I can hear his heavy footsteps as he approaches the bedroom. There's no way he knows I'm home. I can't see why he'd show up knowing I was here. The bedroom door creeks as he opens it. I don't even look up at him.

"Well, well, well," Trevor hisses. "The queen bitch is home."

There is so much goddamn venom in his voice right now. It takes every ounce of strength I have to roll my head over so I can see him. He's a fucking mess. He has dark bags under his eyes and his hair is disheveled. The beard he's been growing over the past few months is sticking out in every which way. I see no remorse on his face. There's only hatred in his eyes.

"They let you go?" I ask.

There's no emotion in my voice when I speak. I ask the question not out of concern but, for a specific purpose. I need to know what I have to work with.

"Yeah, no fucking thanks to your lazy fat ass," Trevor spits. "But hey, I just get to pay a fine for fucking indecent exposure! Isn't that fucking dandy!? They can't prove she was a hooker!"

Trevor is delighted with this outcome. What he doesn't realize is he's just cut his lifeline. He's not in trouble, not in real trouble. There's nothing for me to fix. It literally feels like an avalanche is falling over me. The fury pulses through me. This all seems to take a split second to happen. It scares the fucking piss out of me. This is shit my dad used to fucking do. I leap out of bed and get in his face. He towers over me but, right now I feel like a fucking skyscraper.

"You think this is fucking funny!?" I scream. "You think this is just a fucking vacation, Trevor!? Who the fuck do you think you are!?"

He pushes me away and I shove him right back.

"What the fuck do you have to be pissed about!? Huh?" Trevor presses. "You left my ass to sit in jail all fucking night while you just flitted around in your nice fucking warm bed! What fucking good are you to me if you're not there for me when I fucking need you!?

"Fuck you, Trevor," I say. "You've been taking my fucking pay checks, that's money I fucking spend all day earning, and you buy booze and hookers! That's not fucking right, asshole! That's a pile of shit! How could you do this to me!?"

I hope he can hear every ounce of hatred that I pour into those words. He needs to know how he hurt me.

"Fuck off!" Trevor snaps. "You're a zombie bitch five minutes ago and now you're like a fucking chicken just clucking away at a bunch of bullshit!"

There is so much rage coursing through me that I take a swing at him. I clip him in the jaw. I can feel my knuckle crack as it makes contact with his face. He seizes me by the arm and throws me to the ground. My head slams onto the floor with a sickening thud. Trevor looms over me, his shadow cast over my body. I look him right in the fucking eyes. I don't care if he's physically stronger than me. I will not look weak in front of him.

"Don't make me fucking hit you!" He growls. "You drove me to those fucking cunts! Don't you fucking realize that!? I deal with your bullshit every fucking day. You bitch at me about every little fucking thing! Do you know what it's like to fucking come home every day and just see you disappointed!? And you always act so fucking condescending!"

I can feel his spittle hitting my face as he screams. His voice is growing hoarse from all the shouting too.

"I don't want to fucking work at the warehouse or the fucking factory or the fucking department store or the fucking train yard. I-wanted-to-fucking-fly-planes! I'm not supposed to be living in a shitty house with some crazy bitch and an old lady! This is not supposed to be happening-"

His voice is starting to waiver. This isn't about me. This was never about me. I don't even register on his radar anymore. Fuck, I never did. This is about the world taking a giant dump on his aspirations.

"I'm not supposed to fucking be here," Trevor says again. "Oh fuck, look at me now, Momma. I'm just the fuck up you said I was going to be. I should've fucking listened. I should've fucking listened to you, you crazy fucking bitch."

I'm still angry for the way he hurt me but, the instinct to comfort him is so much stronger. I hate you so fucking much, Trevor Philips. I hate how you do this to me. I reach up for his hand. My fingertips brush against his.

"Jesus Christ, Babe," I say.

I don't even know how I can sound so fucking sugary sweet right now. It's just how the words come out of my lips. I can't help it. I still want to kill him. I want to fucking destroy him but, somebody else already has. I try to get back on my feet. At least if I'm standing I can hold him. This is how things always go. We scream at each other and then have sex. He doesn't help me up. I don't expect him to. I want to take care of him but, I can't let this slip. If I let this go it doesn't do him any good.

"You're going to think I'm a bitch and I don't give two fucks, Trevor, " I begin. "But this 'supposed to' garbage needs to fucking stop. You don't get a second try at fucking life. I know you're fucking angry and I know the only fucking thing you give a shit about was stolen from you and I'm fucking sorry. That doesn't mean you can fucking treat me like this. I'm doing everything I can to make this work. We promised each other at the start that we weren't going to double time each other like this. You don't do this to people you love, Trevor."

I keep expecting him to interrupt me but, he doesn't. His face is still flushed with anger and his lips are pursed together so tightly they're turning white. I don't feel like I'm having a fight with my boyfriend anymore. I feel like I'm scolding a child.

"I know I can't get my fucking money back, babe, but I deserve a goddamn apology for the way you fucking disrespected me," I explain.

I almost burst out laughing when I hear his response.

"Are you really going to kill them all? All those hookers?" Trevor asks.

"I haven't decided yet," I say.

He shifts uncomfortably in front of me. Even after all this shit, he's still just a goddamn kid at heart.

"I'll make this up to you," He declares. "I'll start bringing home the bacon, you'll fucking see."

I let out a sigh of frustration.

"I don't give a shit about the money," I say.

He starts chewing on his bottom lip and averting his gaze. You're in the fucking dog house, Trevor, and you fucking know it. I'm not putting up with your shit.

"No more hookers," Trevor promises.

"And?" I say.

"Aaannd no more dope," Trevor adds.

"And?" I say.

"I don't know," Trevor admits.

I roll my eyes. Sometimes he was fucking denser than a donkey with rocks in its skull. I need to stick to my fucking guns. I won't let him walk all over me with this one. I spent all night carving up my arm because of this latest stunt.

"An apology would be fucking wonderful," I say.

He looks down at his feet as he musters up the balls to admit his wrongs.

"I'm sorry," Trevor says.

I let my expression soften a bit and the gesture causes him to visibly relax.

"Now go, shave that nasty fucking beard and come back here and eat me out," I demand.

His face lights up and he sheepishly heads into the bathroom. I listen to the buzz of the electric razor and running water as he executes his task. The bitch in my head whispers nasty thoughts to me while he's in the bathroom. She has me fixated still on those women he was screwing. I just keep comparing myself to them. How long will it take for this obsession to end? Will I ever fucking trust him again? The bitch tells me he'll do it again. I'll be old and ugly faster than he will. He'll get fed up with my nagging and seek them out again.

It's been a long time since I thought about the end of our love affair but, it creeps into my thoughts now. I know a promise from Trevor Philips is meaningless. I know he will hurt me again. I'm just not so sure now he'll be the one to end all this. Trevor doesn't leave people. He came back for me that night he dumped me by the roadside. He was barely gone for five minutes. He has done nothing to prove my initial theory about him. Trevor won't be the one to end this.

The bathroom falls quiet and I listen to his footsteps as he makes his way back to our room. I smile when I see his freshly shaven face pop into the doorway. He looks like the young Airman that picked me up in that sad little bar again. His eyes look me over and they seem to twinkle with desire. When the excitement falls away from his face I remember the bloody mess on my arm. I look down at the limb and see the dark crusty circles and the bright pink irritated flesh that has swollen up around them.

"What did you do?" Trevor asks.

I can hear the guilt dripping from his words. Every time I look at these scars I will remember how he made me feel last night, how I still feel right now.

"I had to shut her up, Trev," I explain.

He makes his way across the bedroom and gets down on his knees before me. I wrap my legs around his neck and lock my gaze onto his eyes. Trevor slides his hands along my thighs. It's an action that soothes me. He hasn't been this tender in so long and it makes me want to cry. I've forgotten how gentle he can be. I want to scream though. The bitch is whispering in my head. I see him fucking the whores again.

"Tell me I'm beautiful," I demand. "Tell me you'll never leave me. Tell me you love me."

I'm well aware that asking him to say these things takes away their true meaning. I don't give a fucking shit. It's enough to stop the torment that's on loop in my head. He keeps his eyes fixed on mine as he kisses along my inner thigh. Even though there's fabric between my skin and his lips, the action still gives me goose bumps.

"You're beautiful, " Trevor says.

He reaches up and starts to slide off my sweatpants. I feel my pulse quicken as his hands slides across my bare flesh.

"I'll never leave you," Trevor coos.

I let out a moan as I feel his tongue slide along the sensitive skin of my thigh.

"-and I love you," he says.


	8. Even though you've lost your mind

Dani and I are parked in front of the TV. She's completely engrossed in the moronic game show that's flashing across the screen. The host makes me want to punch myself in the goddamn face. His voice is obnoxious and his smile is just too fucking fake for me to swallow. My fingers trace along the bandages that are wrapped tightly around my arm. I know the sore welts that lie beneath are the product of one of my darkest moments since I've been with Trevor. The pain of his infidelity still lingers in my mind, even now. Things have gotten better since that day but, not by much.

Trevor still can't find a job. I want to believe he spends most of the day pounding the pavement and turning in applications but, I know there's no way to be sure. I've given up on ever trusting him again. I hate that fucking fact of our relationship. I don't ask him about his day when he comes home. It only ever leads to fights and things are tense enough between us. He can't stand living under Dani's roof. It's too fucking crowded with the three of us jammed into this tiny two bedroom house.

It feels like this is the first fucking day off I've had in ages. Despite everything that's been going on between us lately I wish I could've spent it with Trevor. He's just too fucking desperate to get a steady cash flow going to waste a day with me. Still, it's nice to spend some time with Dani for once. She and Trevor have gotten to be a bit more cordial with each other. I'm not surprised. He seems to be drawn to older women. She just absolutely hates his fucking guts though. He embodies everything that she stands against.

Some idiot on the game show wins a shitty car and I roll my eyes. Fuck that bitch is happy to get that stupid goddamn sedan.

"Can we watch something less-fucking stupid?" I ask.

My aunt giggles and tosses me the remote.

"What? You wouldn't be that excited to win a new car?" Dani asks.

I start flipping through the four fucking channels we get. I know it's pointless. It's just four different types of garbage.

"Fuck, you got me there," I confess.

My aunt shakes her head. I know she hates the way I talk. It's not decent. She used to scold me every time I dropped the f-bomb or some other taboo word. It fucking failed of course. It's just another part of me that she chose to embrace rather than try and change. After searching through the channels for the last time we end up back on that fucking game show again.

"I give up," I say.

I throw the remote on the floor and curl up on the couch. My aunt laughs; it's a very halfhearted expression though. She grimaces a little. I think nothing of it. The show goes on and another stupid bitch wins a bullshit prize that she'll have to pay way too many taxes on. My aunt keeps rubbing her chest. It gets my attention when she falls out of her chair.

Aunt Dani topples forward and rolls onto the floor. She lets out a cry of pain as she grasps desperately at her chest. Jesus fucking Christ. I leap over to her only to see her face starting to turn a shade of purple.

"Dani!? Dani!?" I scream. "Jesus Christ!"

I think she's having a fucking heart attack. My heart races but, I can already feel that cold instinct kicking in. I trip over myself as I run to the phone. I slam my fingers as fast as I can into the number pad. This isn't fucking happening right now. This can't be fucking happening right now. I know my aunt is fat as fuck and has a horrible diet but, this can't happen to her. I feel as if someone else is speaking for me when I speak into the phone. The woman on the other line sounds so fucking bored. Why the fuck is that all I can think about? A sinking sense of dread sets in while I'm on the phone. Aunt Dani's gotten too fucking quiet.

Her face looks like a fucking blueberry as she lies there on the floor. I can hear the words coming out of my mouth as I tell the woman on the line my address but, they just don't register in my mind. She hangs up on me after telling me that the ambulance is coming. How are we going to pay for this? Holy fuck, why is that the one thing that comes to mind right now?

I kneel down by my aunt and gaze at her motionless body. I can't even detect the tiniest fucking sign of movement. I brush some of her brittle hair away from her forehead.

"It'll be okay," I say. "They're coming."

It's not going to be okay. Even though her flesh feels warm beneath my fingertips her chest lies still. She's not fucking breathing. I still feel nothing even after that revelation. My aunt doesn't look peaceful or happy. She's just a bloated pile of flesh that's lying in the middle of her living room.

It all goes by in a blur. I step out of the way of the paramedics as they trample into our house. I watch them strap her onto the stretcher and haul her out the front door. The flashing lights cast a strange glow on the faces of the neighbors that have gathered to watch the scene. I still feel completely empty. One of the paramedics tells me what hospital they're taking her to and all I can do is nod. They never told me if she was dead already but, they don't have to. I have no way to get to the hospital. I have no way to get a hold of Trevor.

I sit down on the front porch where Kimmy and I used to share Bloody Marys. The last time I felt this way was when I was ten years old. My mother's corpse was face down on the kitchen floor with a pool of blood spreading out beneath her. I felt nothing then and I feel nothing now. I just know I can take no action but wait. The phone will ring or Trevor will come home. Until that time comes, I can do absolutely fucking nothing.

I watch the crowd slowly dissipate around me. I can hear their hushed whispers as they gaze at me. I don't care what they have to say. I have no sense of time as I sit there on the porch. I don't know how many hours have sipped by when I hear the phone ring in the house. It's an out of body experience when I stand up and walk back inside. I feel like I'm just watching myself on some sad TV show. This isn't my life. This isn't happening. I hold the receiver to my ear and my voice croaks when I answer the phone. They ask for me by name and it barely registers in my mind.

"This is her," I say.

I must be possessed by a demon because it feels like I'm not really uttering these words.

"I'm sorry to inform you that Daniella Bugayos has passed away," The man on the phone says.

My aunt is dead.

"What happened?" I ask.

There should be so much more emotion charged within that question but, there is nothing. My mind is just trying to fill in the blanks and find the answers before it can calculate what must be done next.

"She had a massive heart attack," The man explains. "We tried everything we could to save her."

"Okay," I say.

He prattles on about funeral arrangements and legal matters. His voice is warm and should be comforting but, I just feel cold. I take a mental note of everything he says, storing it away for use later. He asks me about her will and I have no answers for him. No, she has no family. I'm not her daughter. I'm not her niece, I'm just a kid she plucked out of a foster home. It wasn't a legal adoption. He tells me he's sorry again and again. The phone call ends and I hang up.

I lean against the wall and I feel my face start to contort. I can feel the sorrow starting to creep in but it just can't get a firm enough grasp on me to stick around. My legs crumple beneath me and I slide down to the floor.

My aunt is dead.

I stare at the spot on the living room floor where she fell. I keep staring at it until the sun goes down and the street lights come on. I keep staring at it until Trevor Philips unlocks the front door and steps inside. He cracks a smile when he sees me on the floor. I'm sure I look strange right now. When I don't respond the joy is wiped away from his face. It feels like someone else is turning my head to look up at him. This isn't me. I'm not really here.

"My aunt is dead," I say.

His expression remains flat. He gets down on the floor next to me and I feel his arm drape around my shoulders. Feeling the heat of his body against mine starts to thaw the wall that my brain has put up around me all day.

"She had a heart attack," I explain.

He cups my face with his free hand and tilts my head so it rests on his shoulder. All I can think about is how his stubble feels as it rubs against my forehead. I feel like my throat is swelling shut. My face feels hot and I can sense the urge to cry trying to break its way through the icy emotional armor I have on.

"Are you okay?" Trevor asks.

I won't cry now. I won't start grieving until months, maybe even years, have passed. Fuck, I still feel nothing about my dead mother.

"This is bad, Trev," I say. "I think we're going to be homeless."

I can feel his hot breath on my face and I try to focus on the faint sensation it stirs within me.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

His voice sounds so loud with my ear pressed against his shoulder.

"I'm not related to her," I explain. "I'm pretty sure she never bothered to draw up a will either. This isn't my house. It belongs to the state now."

"You don't know that for sure," Trevor says.

But I do know it for sure, Trevor. Dani never planned ahead. She wasn't planning when she brought me home with her all those years ago. She never bothered to go through all the hoops she needed to. Her heart was too fucking big for her to do that. She just opened her heart and home without thinking it through.

I was right again. When we met with the lawyer after the funeral, he only had bad news. Even then I still felt nothing. Trevor starts cursing at the bald man in the ill-fitting suit but, it doesn't change the law. We have thirty days to vacate the premises. I drag him out of the lawyer's office before Trevor murders him for simply being the messenger with bad news.

Even when we leave Aunt Dani's house with nothing but two suitcases, I feel nothing. Trevor promises me he'll make this fucking work that he'll keep us off the streets. I know my wages from the burger joint aren't enough to keep the two of us a float. No one is going to hire a man like Trevor for a steady job. It's going to be up to me.

When, he makes love me on the filthy motel bed, I still feel nothing. He whispers nasty things into my ear and then clutches to me like a child when he's finished. I run my fingers through his hair and notice it's getting thinner. I remember it's our anniversary and I tell him. He snuggles up closer to me and promises me we'll see a million more of them. I know it's not true.

I don't feel something until I'm standing over the range grill at work months later. I flip one of the shitty frozen patties over and press down on it with my metal spatula. Sweat is pouring down my face and dripping onto the grill. It sizzles when it hits the hot surface. I start to tremble and my eyes start to burn from tears. It all comes spilling out and I fall to my knees. Tears are streaming down my face as I let out the desperate sobs that have been struggling to escape for what felt like an eternity. One of the other fry cooks calls my boss over. The poor, pimple faced kid looks absolutely fucking overwhelmed. I curl up on the floor and cry like a fucking baby. I can barely breathe because it feels like a thousand pounds have just been dumped on my chest.

My boss skids on the tile when he runs over to me. He doesn't give two fucks about the fact that I lost the only stable fucking entity I had in my life. His face is red with rage and he's huffing like the obese fuck he is.

"What the fuck is going on here!?" He demands.

I try and push myself off the floor but, I slip on the tile.

"I'm so sorry," I say. "I'll get it together, I promise!"

He folds his chubby arms across his chest.

"Then make it happen, fucking fast. I can't deal with this shit back here, come on!" He snaps.

I wipe the snot from my nose on my sleeve and get back to work. The kid next to me is shaking like a leaf and his eyes keep darting over to me. My boss watches me finish the order before he storms back off to his office. I'm sure he's just going to watch some fucked up porn and rub one out. That's all that sad fuck ever does around here.

I'm not exactly sure how I even finished work that day. I broke down a couple more times but, I didn't let it overwhelm me again. The bitch starts whispering to me again. It's been so fucking long since I heard her that I can't fight her at all. She fills my head with memories of Dani's purple, bloated face. Why didn't I try to save her? I could've stopped her from dying. I should've done something! Anything! But why fucking now? Why after all this time does the bullshit finally fucking start?

The only relief I get is when it's time for me to clean up my post and clock out. That grill has never looked that fucking perfect in its entire existence. As I scrape off the chunks of chemically modified meat and grease, I feel like I'm scraping my aunt's face out of my memory. She just won't fucking get out of my head though, no matter how hard I try. My stomach is growling and I feel ravenous. Food has had no taste, my stomach has never felt empty, my body has been asleep for months and it's finally coming back to life. I steal a dozen burgers before I leave. The paper bag is tearing apart because I've stuffed it so full. Nobody gives me any shit. We're all fucking struggling, they all fucking understand. These burgers are barely fucking worth twenty-five cents total. It's not like I'm actually robbing the company.

Snow is coming down from the black sky in fluffy white flakes. My breath turns to fog when it comes out of my nose and the cold cuts me to the bone. I fight back more tears as I march home through the snow. Fuck, it's not home. It's a shitty motel room that has semen caked on to the walls and stinks of the hookers that frequent it. Twenty dollars a day to keep a roof over our heads because my aunt forgot to make sure I have a fucking home when she's gone.

I want to kill something. I miss Dani but, I hate her for fucking me over. I hate myself for not doing more to save her. I hate Trevor for still being a jobless, crazy fuck. My cheeks are starting to sting from the icy air blasting against them as I walk. The neighborhood around me slowly becomes shittier. Punk hoodlums, twitching hookers and desperate people crowd the streets. Poor people don't give a fuck whether it's snowing. It's just as cold in their fucking house as it is outside. Pigs holler at me as I walk by and I lash out right back at them. They tell me to chill the fuck out; I tell them I'm going to chop off their dicks in their sleep.

It feels like I've just woken from a coma.

I can see Trevor's car in the motel parking lot. We won't go hungry tonight, baby. But I need you now more than ever. I push my way into the room. It's fucking disgusting that we have to live in a shit pool like this. He greets me at the door with his arms wide open and a smile on his face. Trevor's lost so much fucking weight since Dani died. Fuck, I have too. We've been living off of the one free meal I get from work and the cheap, shitty junk food in the motel vending machine. Why does he look so goddamn happy? We have nothing to be fucking happy about.

I hold up the bag of cold burgers and say, "I brought dinner. It was a shitty day."

Trevor takes me by the hand and tosses the burgers on the floor.

"Not tonight, darling," Trevor says. "We're having a proper fucking meal tonight. I'm taking you out on the town! We're gonna live it fucking up tonight!"

What the fuck is he on about? I try to walk past him but he sidesteps in front of me.

"What's the matter?" Trevor asks. "You look like shit. C'mon let me put a smile on your face!"

I'm too overwhelmed with the flood of pent up emotions to be swayed by his charms.

"What's going on, Trev?" I ask.

He rests his hands on my shoulders and makes a fucking puppy dog face. He is such a manipulative little fuck.

"Don't be mad," Trevor says.

This is going to be bad. He guides me over to the bed and I'm pretty sure I literally shit my pants when I see what's spread all over it. Money. Scrunched up green bills are scattered across the unkempt sheets and a beat-up hand gun has been tossed carelessly on a stained pillow.

"What the fuck did you do!?" I scream.

"Hey, just chill the fuck out okay!?" Trevor snaps.

He picks up a wad of cash and shoves it at me. I stare at the bills in my hands and I forget the sight of Dani's corpse for one blessed second.

"I robbed a fucking liquor store!" Trevor says. "It was the greatest fucking thing in the world! You really need to try it some time, honey, because holy shit does that get the blood flowing!"

I wrap my fingers around the bills and look back up at him. They're not big bills. There can't be more than a couple hundred bucks on the bed.

"Come on! We needed the fucking cash!" Trevor explains. "No one's gonna hire me okay? And I'm tired of us living like this! It's us against the world, Momma, and I'm gonna have us living in the lap of fucking luxury!"

I walk over to the bed and start picking up all the bills. I start counting them out and my heart starts to pound. We haven't had this much money, ever. Never fucking ever.

"Well!? What the fuck!? Say something!" Trevor demands.

He sounds so pumped up. It's almost the amount of excitement he used to have when he got to fly. Almost.

"I'm not mad," I say.

It's fucking true too. I'm not mad. I'm beyond the point of caring about what's right or wrong or how risky this is. We've barely been scraping by and I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to be trapped in this godforsaken town in that piss hole of a job. The grin he has on his face is completely insane. I finish counting the bills and smooth them out in my hand.

"But we can't stay here," I say. "We need to leave. They're going to be looking for you."

As of tonight, we're fucking gypsies.

"We'll ditch the car, get a new one." I say. "They'll be looking for that too. We get new names with every new place we go. We get new lives. That's the only way this will work."

He pulls me close and lays a big sloppy kiss on me.

Trevor shakes me with delight as he speaks, "I knew you'd have a fucking plan! You always fucking do!"

I have to get on my tiptoes to kiss him. I jab my tongue down his throat and shove my hand down his pants. I'm alive again. I'll probably cry again tonight, and laugh and cry and laugh. It's over though. My aunt is gone and now it's time to take care of my man. I can feel him stiffen beneath my touch but, there's no time for that now.

"Go switch out our plates with someone else's," I say. "Do it quick. I'll get our shit together."

He stands up straight and gives me a military salute. That gloriously devilish grin is plastered on his face.

"Yes, Ma'am!" He says.

I can hear the arousal in his voice. I've got a sliver of the old Trevor back. We've both come back to life tonight. We've both been roused from the painful slumber that was holding us back. Watch the fuck out world.

He runs outside to complete the task I've assigned him. I shove all the money in my pocket. It's strange how six hundred bucks can fit into your pocket. They make a pile of money like this look so much bigger on TV. The bitch whispers to me as I stuff our clothes into a suitcase. She sounds so far away. She nags me about Dani and I feel the grief creeping back in again. I let the tears fall while I work. I don't want to keep this pent up inside. I should've been done with this by now. I don't think I'll ever be fucking done. Trevor won't be fucking done with his shit ever. Why the fuck should I ever expect it to? I'll get sick of it one day. I'll be too old for it soon.

I zip up the suitcase and carry it outside. I find Trevor leaning against a truck that's engine is running like shit. I glance back at his car; the plates are still the same. I have no fucking idea where he learned how to hot wire a car but, I don't question it. It's a better idea to just take off with something completely different anyway. I feel a swell of pride over his quick thinking.

"Nice trick," I say.

He's committed armed robbery and grand theft auto in the same night. Way to rack up a record, babe. Now, I'm his fucking accomplice. My aunt is probably rolling over in her grave right now.

"See, sugar, I get good ideas too!" Trevor declares.

He takes the suitcase out of my hands and tosses it into the back of the cab. Trevor makes an excessively grand gesture of opening the passenger door for me. I trace my fingers across his chest before I climb in. He hasn't looked this giddy in so long I've almost forgotten what it looks like. Trevor's beaming like the fucking sun as he navigates us out of the parking lot. The truck fishtails as we peel out and speed down the road.

I become overwhelmed with the swirl of grief and joy that's churning within me. Aunt Dani wouldn't want this but, I feel so free to shed my old life and run away with this crazy kid. I let the tears flow but I'm not sobbing. I'm laughing like I've just heard the funniest fucking joke in the world. I feel Trevor place his hand on my shoulder and I look over at him. He's laughing too but, he looks completely fucking confused.

"What's going on with you?" Trevor asks.

I grab his hand and plant kisses all over the calloused surface of his knuckles. I love him so fucking much.

"I'm just glad to be back, babe," I say.

He cracks that crooked smile that I love so much and I can see that familiar twinkle in his eye.

"Then how about you give my fucking ramrod a nice tug or two?" Trevor suggests.

I lean over and I rub the growing bulge in his crotch. Fuck, he deserves it. I fucking deserve it. I've finally fucking gotten my life back under control again. The bitch can whisper all she wants tonight. She can scream until my ears bleed about how fucking stupid we are. We're destroying each other's future in a glorious blaze of self indulgence and I feel so fucking alive.

"You've been such a good boy, Trevor," I say. "Mommy thinks you've earned something special tonight."

I feel him go rigid when my face nuzzles between his legs. The truck swerves back and forth in an erratic dance as I go to work. The bitch is screaming. She flashes images of Aunt Dani, Kimmy crying, and hookers hanging off of Trevor's cock. The growing pain in my jaw does nothing to snuff them out. I welcome my bullshit tonight. I welcome that familiar feeling it brings. It's like a shitty old friend that just keeps coming around. You don't realize how much you love them until they've been gone for a long time. It reminds me I have a fucking soul. There still is a heart beating inside my scarred fucking chest.


	9. In this tug of war

I am not the same woman I was when I first met Airman Philips. I've become a monster. I glance in the rear view mirror of our latest ride and survey the fresh patch of scabs on my chin. I can hear the rumble of the car engine as it idles. The car reeks of piss and cigarette smoke and we've barely had it for a fucking week. I'm parked out front of a gas station. It's hard to see through the dark glasses on my face but, I watch Trevor wave his pistol in the cashier's face. Make it clean and quick, baby.

The poor fuck starts tossing money into Trevor's burlap sack. We've almost got the hang of this routine now. Even though it's become just a part of daily life for me, the bitch in my head is still screaming. I've learned to hold back on my compulsions until we've gotten away. I can't risk them getting in the way of our escape. The clock is ticking, Trevor. The cops will be here soon.

He bursts through the glass doors of the gas station and sprints for the car. I reach over and push open the passenger door so he can just leap in. I shift the car into gear and ready myself for what will come next. Trevor leaps into the car and slams the door shut.

"Go go go go!" He shrieks.

I slam my foot on the gas and the tires squeal in protest. Trevor cackles like a maniac as we barrel down the highway. The green forest flies past the window in a blur. I shift gears without thinking. The chassis starts to rattle as I push the car to its limit. I weave between semis and station wagons until I feel I've put enough distance between us and the gas station. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Trevor peel off the black, wool ski mask and toss it in the back seat. His face is flushed and sweaty but, there is an almost sexual satisfaction radiating off of him.

I glance in the rear view mirror one last time. No flashing lights. I slow down the car and position us in front of a rickety RV. I want to be sure there's something bulky and slow between us and the cops.

"Wooo-eee!" Trevor hollers. "That was fucking perfect!"

I find myself smiling. My hands are starting to get that familiar burning sensation. I never have anything to clean anymore, so I always end up going after my skin. I don't get the same thrill that Trevor does from stealing. It isn't fun for me, it's a necessity. Besides, I have to keep him in line or we'll get caught. I want to pick at the scabs on my face but, I still don't feel like we're in the fucking clear.

"Light me up a blunt won't you, sugar?" I ask.

He just shakes his head and starts digging around in the glove box.

"I don't fucking get why you do that," Trevor says. "The last thing I want now is to fucking mellow my ass out. Why the fuck do you want to? Don't you want to feel that fucking adrenaline pumping through your veins?"

I'm just trying to shut up the bitch, Trevor. This is old news to you. I lean towards him so he can slide the joint between my lips. He fumbles with his lighter a bit before he finally gets the flame to light. My nostrils flare as I take in the sweet scent of the smoke.

"Let's go get some speed, eh?" Trevor suggests. "Fuck this garbage, I want to party tonight!"

I hope he never fucking loses that endless supply of energy.

"We have to dump this car first, baby," I remind him.

He groans like a little kid who's just been told he can't buy a toy at the store.

"Aw come on!" He pleads. "It's always fucking serious business with your ass! Just can't we fucking take it easy for once?"

I blow out a ring of thick smoke from my lips.

"No," I say.

I can already feel the weed doing its job. The bitch is getting harder to hear and my hands are only tingling now.

"God fucking damn it, woman!" Trevor snaps. "I'm in an excellent fucking mood; don't ruin it with your horse shit!"

I'll fucking show him. With a flick of my wrist, I make the car veer off the road. Dirt flings up around us as I send us careening into the ditch. It's over fucking dramatic but, I need to fucking remind him who wears the goddamn pants. The car jerks us around like crash test dummies as I bring it to a stop.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" He screams.

All I do is flash him a nice bitchy smile.

"Are you done whining like a fucking baby?" I ask. "Because I would fucking love to be back on our merry fucking way."

My voice sounds so fucking sugary sweet I could be the goddamn tooth fairy. He just growls at me. Predictable, so fucking predictable. This is what gets my blood pumping. It's not stealing cars or robbing convenient stores that I get off on. It's ticking him off.

"No! You're fucking pissing me off!" Trevor growls.

He's so angry that the veins in his neck pop out when he screams. I know it's fucked up how much pleasure I get out of this. I can barely remember the days when I thought he was the one who held all the cards. Trevor's just a loyal fucking puppy dog. A beautiful, perfect, psychotic, little puppy dog.

"Come on," I plead. "I'll let you drive."

It's not really begging. By now he should know where this conversation leads. The drugs have silenced the bitch in my head and seeing him pissed off has me in the mood. Trevor grits his teeth as he stares me down.

"Fine fucking move then," He relents.

I slide out of his way as he crawls over me to get into the driver's seat. I make sure to brush my hand across his crotch in the process. He settles into the driver's seat and starts up the car again. The car bumps and jerks as he pulls it back on to the highway. I take another hit from my joint and ease back in my seat.

This is what our lives have come to. He makes me feel like a proper fucking woman. No man has ever been able to accomplish that. We're still a fucking mess at the end of the day but, I don't care as much anymore. Nothing will ever fix the problems we've got and one day things will be too broken for me to carry on. That day is going to be the ugliest fucking day of my life. Trevor turns on the radio and flips through the stations until he finds something that plays the shit he likes.

The sky above us starts to shift from a crisp shade of blue into a warm swirl of pinks and oranges. I direct him to pull off on a gravel road and he obeys. I have special plans tonight. He's been such a good fucking boy lately. Normally, I'd have counted up our haul by now but, it's the last thing on my mind. I want his fucking body too bad to think about our income. Rocks bounce off the car window as we rumble down the road.

We've been robbing stores along the Canadian border since the night we fled our old lives. Every now and then I think about Kimmy or Aunt Dani and get a little sad. I don't think I would've been able to take off with him if they were still around. We come up to a break in the trees and a massive, black, glassy lake is spread out before us. Trevor knows what to do. There's no need for me to fucking tell him every goddamn step. He pulls up the car to one of the boat launches and I wait for him to bring the vehicle to a stop.

"I want some fucking poutine," Trevor says as we step out of the car.

I pull out my stash of weed from the glove box and toss him his pistol.

"We'll, get some tomorrow, doll face," I say. "I've got some plans for us tonight."

He pulls our suitcase out of the trunk and lays it on the ground. This is a well fucking rehearsed routine we have here.

"You always have fucking plans," Trevor complains. "What about the shit I want to fucking do, huh? I'm the one who does all the fucking work!"

I toss him the sack full of money which he catches without a second thought.

"You'll like this, I promise," I say.

He walks back over to the driver's seat and shifts the gear stick into neutral. We take our positions on either side of the car and start to push it down the ramp.

"There better be some fucking booze involved or I'll fucking chop off your tongue so you can't boss me the fuck around anymore," Trevor snaps.

We both grunt and groan as we make the final push to send the car into the sloshing waters of the lake. Bubbles burst on the surface as the front end of the car dips into the abyss and starts to sink. We huff and puff, trying to catch our breath as the tail lights disappear beneath the murky surface of the lake. I flash him a smile as we walk back up the ramp.

"If you do that, I'll just cut your dick off," I tease.

"Ha! I fucking doubt you'll be willing to make such a goddamn sacrifice!" Trevor retorts.

He's right. I would fucking kill myself if he lost his cock. I feel my pulse quicken as I watch his muscles bulging in his neck. When he actually fucking stands up straight he's the perfect fucking male specimen of our species. He starts to head back to the gravel road but I don't budge.

"Where you going?" I tease.

We're not boosting another car tonight. I chose to dump the car here for a reason. In the dim of twilight I can already see some of the lights glowing in the cabin windows down along the shore line. A lot of those cabins have vacant neighbors and I'm a bitch who has a thirst for some raunchy cabin sex.

"What the fuck is it now?" Trevor asks.

I start walking down the shore and gesture for him to follow. He lets out another frustrated groan and trudges after me. The rocks crunch beneath our footsteps as we make our way down the shore. I try to put an extra sway in my hips as I walk. I want him to be fucking jonesing hard for me by the time we get there. He seems more interested in the fucking forest though than my ass. Sometimes I could fucking punch him.

"Hey dick head," I holler.

I gaze over my shoulder; I can barely make out his face now that darkness has fallen but his broad silhouette still make my heart flutter.

"What?" He says.

I can hear something in his voice that I don't like. There's a quality of sadness to it. He shouldn't be fucking upset right now. We've had a splendid motherfucking day and we're going to have a swell fucking evening.

"Blow job for your thoughts?" I tease.

Honestly, he doesn't have to tell me shit to get me to wrap my mouth around his dick right now.

"This place just looks fucking familiar is all," Trevor explains. "A lot like a camp we went to when I was a kid."

Jesus Christ. The comment actually makes me stop in my tracks for a moment. Never in our entire fucking relationship has Trevor mentioned anything remotely related to his fucking upbringing. Why now of all the fucking times does he bring that up? My curiosity is absolutely fucking peaked. I'm practically salivating at the potential this conversation holds.

"Maybe it is," I say.

I try to play it cool. I feel like if I show him my excitement that he'll close off and I'll lose this chance.

"It's most certainly fucking is not," Trevor assures.

So, it's already over? I dread the outcome. I want to know. I want to get a glimpse of where former-Airman Philips came from.

"Oh?" I say. "It's pretty dark out-it could be the same place."

"It's fucking not!" Trevor chokes.

He's fucking crying? I turn around again and grab him by the arms. I can't fucking see his face in the dark but, he's certainly trembling. Maybe it was a huge fucking mistake to come here.

"Talk to me, Trev," I say. "What's the matter? You had a great fucking day."

He pushes me out of the way and keeps walking.

"Just let it fucking go," Trevor growls.

Fine, I won't say another fucking word. I feel like the biggest fucking bitch on the planet. Great fucking job, cunt face. We keep walking and the silence is fucking killing me. The cabins are so close now that I can see which one I want to crash in for the night. I should be scoping out the parked cars, deciding which one we're going to jack in the morning but, I can't concentrate. Even with a head full of weed the bitch is beating me up over this. If I had known this was how Trevor was going to react, I never would've brought him here.

I should've fucking thought about this more. I start to pick at the scabs on my chin to try and shut her up. I instantly feel a sharp sting when I peel off one of the scabs and it's enough to quiet her, at least for now. I walk over to one of the empty cabins and Trevor follows. He's a ghost of the man he was a few hours ago. This is all my fucking fault. I hate to ask him to break open the lock but, I don't have the skill to do it like he does.

"Ba—"

"Yeah I got it," Trevor says, cutting me off.

Trevor comes up to the door and in what seems like one fluid motion, he has the door knob dangling out of its socket. The door swings open and he steps inside. All the excitement I had for tonight's plans is gone. I feel absolutely fucking low. Part of me still wants to know what's eating at him so badly. What fucking memory did I drudge up tonight? When we get inside the cabin we push one of the bulky chairs against the front door and then close up all the curtains. It's just a little bit of insurance.

"Do you want your surprise still?" I ask.

I know he fucking doesn't. Jesus, I'm a bitch. He doesn't respond. I'm shocked. I've never seen him like this. Even when he was discharged, there wasn't this silent sorrow smothering him. I unzip the suitcase and pull out the two bottles of whiskey that I had stashed away for tonight. If I can't make him feel better maybe the booze will. I turn on one of the cheap lamps and watch it light up the shadows on his face. Christ, it looks like Trevor's been fucking shot in the stomach.

His silence is scaring me and it's been a long fucking time since I was afraid of him. I hold out the bottle of whiskey to him and he seems to perk up a bit. I try to smile but, it feels so forced.

"Have a drink, baby," I coo. "You'll feel better."

He twists off the top and wraps his lips around the rim. Trevor tilts the bottle up and I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as the golden liquid slides down his throat. I don't want to be sober right now either. I take a swig from my bottle and wipe the excess away from my face. It burns as it goes down and I savor the sensation.

"One of my Mom's fucking douche boyfriends took us out to a place like this one weekend," Trevor says.

I literally think my heart has fucking stopped. I have to take another swig of whiskey before I can bring myself to respond.

"Us?" I ask.

"My brother and I," Trevor explains.

I had no fucking idea that he had a brother. He guzzles down more whiskey and I decide to join in. He doesn't want to be sober for this conversation. Fuck, I'm not sure if I want to.

"You have a brother?" I ask.

He takes another swig of whiskey and traces his thumb around the rim of the bottle. When he looks up at me it sends a chill down my spine. His eyes look glassy and full of anger.

"I had a fucking brother," Trevor says, correcting me.

I reach for him but he jerks away from my touch.

"This asshole Momma was fucking- he wanted to make a proper fucking man out of us." Trevor explains. "So, he takes us out for a weekend of hunting. Ryan and I were just pussies and he needed to set us straight!"

Trevor looks like he's a million fucking miles away. I down more booze and so does he.

"That prick," Trevor seethes. "He didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing. He couldn't fire a gun for shit and he didn't know jack fucking squat about hunting."

I'm too fucking engrossed to say a damn word.

"He took us out into the woods that morning," Trevor says and takes another swig of whiskey. "He was a lazy fucking bastard though, he didn't really want to teach us anything. He parked his ass under a tree and told us to go find a coon to put a bullet in. We were stupid fucking kids and I certainly didn't want to spend another fucking minute in that ass wipe's company. So, I went one way and Ryan wandered off to some other fucking place."

Trevor's brow starts to twitch and his eyes get wider.

"I remember he had on this grey coat. You shouldn't fucking wear shit like that when you go hunting." Trevor explains. "You wear neon mother fucking orange and that's the fucking end of it."

Jesus Christ, I know exactly where this is going.

"Fuck," I gasp.

"Yes! Exactly! Exactly fucking fuck!" Trevor shrieks.

Spit flies out of his mouth and his face is flushing with rage.

"I didn't fucking know I'd circled around on him! I couldn't fucking see anything with all those fucking trees!" Trevor says. "I was just a fucking kid who didn't have the slightest fucking clue how to hunt a goddamn coon! So, I see something moving in the bushes and I fucking shoot! I pulled that fucking trigger without a second fucking thought! I didn't know it was Ryan! How the fuck was I supposed to know!?"

He's gripping the bottle so tightly that I'm scared it's going to shatter in his hand. I never should've brought him here. I never should've fucking brought him here. I reach out but, retract my hand before I make contact. I've never seen him like this. I don't know what he'll do if I touch him. Every inch of him shakes with rage and tears start to pour down his face.

"It's not my fucking fault, Mommy! It's not my fucking fault! I didn't mean to shoot him! Stop fucking hitting me! It's not my fucking fault! It's not my fucking fault!"

He breaks down sobbing and I can't hold back anymore. I'm crying too now. Jesus fucking Christ, Trev, I'm sorry this happened to you. I don't think I just react. I wrap my arms around him and pull him against my bosom. His snot, spit and tears smear across my shirt as I clutch him tightly.

"It wasn't your fault, baby," I coo. "It wasn't your fault."

He shoves me away and I fall backwards. It catches me off guard and I find myself trembling. He slams the bottle of whiskey down on the side table and starts going to town on the cabin. He upends furniture and smashes the cheesy decorations nailed to the walls.

"It was my fucking fault!" Trevor screams. "That's why we had to dump him in the fucking lake! That's what that asshole said to me! Clean up your fucking mess, Trevor, you stupid fucking little shit!"

I dodge a lamp that he sends flying across the room. The green porcelain smashes into a thousand pieces on the wall behind my head. I start to feel my cold instinct taking over again. He needs to stop or the neighbors will call the cops.

"Trevor—" I say.

He just screams at me. It's like the night before his psych evaluation all fucking over again. What fucking monster have I unleashed? He continues to tear apart the cabin and I feel desperate to stop him. I have to pull the plug on this or we'll be up shit creek. I call his name over and over but it does nothing. He just keeps letting out those agonizing screams and reliving that horrible moment over and over. I know it's dangerous but I go to him anyway.

I hold out my hands like I'm a approaching a caged fucking tiger. He could hit me right now. I can see it happening. After all the times I've hit him, I fucking deserve it.

"Trevor," I coo. "Trevor, baby, calm down."

Trevor grabs me by the arms and swings me around. I can't look scared. If I show my fear than this will all fall apart. I put on my brave face when our eyes meet. His brow is twitching like crazy and he's baring his teeth like a rabid dog.

"It's over," I say. "It's all fucking over. We'll get that asshole back some day, I swear to fucking God. We'll make him pay."

I can feel him tightening his grip. It hurts but I don't wince. I can't let him see it hurts.

"It wasn't your fault," I go on. "It was his for putting you in that fucking position. You were just a kid. You didn't fucking know any better."

I lace my fingers around his biceps and pull myself closer to him. I try to stop myself from shaking but, I'm failing miserably. He's shaking so much though, I doubt he can fucking tell that I am too. I'm not lying to him either. I want to make that fucker pay for what he did to my baby. I want him to fucking burn. Trevor's legs give out and he falls to the floor. He hangs on to my calves and sobs like a baby.

"Oh fuck, Mommy, make it fucking go away." He cries. "Make it all fucking go away."

I brush his thinning hair with my fingers and try to sooth his pain with my touch.

"No one can make it go away, Trevor," I say. "But we'll make him pay."

He looks up at me and my heart fucking breaks. All I can see is that scared little boy in the woods who shot his brother. It was just a horrible fucking accident. It wasn't really his fault.

"You promise?" Trevor begs.

I kneel down so my eyes are level with his. I want him to know just exactly how fucking much I mean this. I cup his angular face in my hands and stare straight in to his swollen brown eyes.

"I promise, baby." I say. "That mother fucker is going to die."

We drink until there isn't a single drop of whiskey left in our bottles. In a drunken haze we rip off each other's clothes and explore all the familiar crevices of each other's bodies. I let him take the lead tonight. I dig my fingernails into the flesh of his back as he grinds his hips into mine. When he's finished I cradle him in my arms like a child, while he sobs himself to sleep. I can't tear myself away from him. I feel like if I let him go he'll fall into a million pieces.

I did this to him. I brought him to this wretched fucking place. I stirred up all those awful memories. Yet here he is. Our limbs are tangled together and his head is lying on my chest. Trevor doesn't see me as a monster though. He's too blinded by loyalty to see that part of me. The bitch is whispering to me. I pick away at my face but, it's not enough pain to silence her. No amount of physical torture is going to silence her tonight. I'm a monster, Trevor Philips and I'm sorry. I'm going to buy that fucking poutine for him in the morning, even if I have to murder every fucking person in North Yankton to do it.


	10. You'll always win

I reach across the table and dab the gravy on Trevor's chin with my napkin. He swats my hand away and growls.

"Knock that shit off," He hisses.

He shoves another fork full of poutine into his mouth. I'm actually feeling fucking good this morning. This fruity little café we're eating breakfast at is actually kind of charming. The birds are fucking chirping and the sun is fucking shining. We're at this cute fucking table on the patio. It's a bunch of fluffy perfect shit. All the guilt I felt last night has washed away. I have a fire in my heart and I'm out for blood. Trevor still seems a little wounded. I wish I could make it fucking perfect for him but, its just not in my power.

I can make that fucking pig bleed out and that's all I can offer. He eats like a fucking animal. He's getting cheese curds and gravy all over his fucking face. Every instinct in my body drives me to keep wiping his face. Jesus Christ, I'm not his fucking mother though. In this moment, I can't see the end of us as clearly as I used to. It's getting harder for me to imagine.

When we first got together it felt like everyday was going to be our last. We've been through some awful shit and now we're living the lives of fugitives on the run. Christ, I still love him so much. He's all I fucking have left anymore and I can't imagine letting him go. I can't keep watching him eat like this. The need for me to wipe his face is just too fucking real.

I watch the girls sitting at the table across from us. They're young, probably younger than Trevor by the looks of things. They're wearing pretty fucking, frilly outfits and have perfect fucking hair and skin. They cluck like a fucking group of chickens. I know I was that young once, I just can't fucking remember how that felt. I've felt like an old woman since the day I was born and, fuck, I'm not even an old woman yet.

Their eyes keep darting over to Trevor and they whisper to each other. I'm fucking invisible to them. He's handsome. I know it. They know it. But what they don't fucking know is he's mine and if they even lay a finger on him I'll break their fucking faces. The anger they make me feel reminds me of the promise I made last night.

"Baby," I say. "How are you this morning?"

He smacks his lips as he chews the greasy concoction in his open mouth.

"I could be fucking better," Trevor admits.

He lifts up the paper plate and tries to scrape off the last bits of cheese and gravy into his mouth. It drives me nuts when he slops gravy all over his fucking shirt. I can hear those fucking bitches giggling as they watch him.

"I know last night was rough," I say. "But we have plans to make."

He rolls his eyes and tosses the plate back onto the table. He lets out an obnoxious belch and wipes his face on his sleeve. He must fucking know how much that sets me off.

"I know, I know," I say. "I'm just very fucking motivated today."

Trevor starts watching those bitches too. Every time he looks at another woman it makes my blood boil. I still can't let it go that he cheated on me.

"I'm over here," I snap.

He cracks a smile and I instantly forgive him for the indiscretion.

"My heart only has eyes for you, hot stuff," Trevor says. "But my dick has eyes for everything with two legs and hole between its thighs."

It's the closest to a fucking apology I'm going to get.

"Stay focused, baby," I press. "I know you don't want to talk about this but, we need to."

Trevor starts to jiggle his leg. He's uncomfortable and I hate making him feel this way but I need to have this conversation.

"What was that bastard's name?" I ask.

The bastard that took Trevor and his brother into the woods, who let that horrific accident happen under his watch, I try to picture him in my mind, so I can have a new face to fixate my hatred on.

"Kenneth Manfield," Trevor says.

His voice is low and dripping with hatred. I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. I run my thumb across the back of his hand. My touch stops his twitching only briefly but, it's enough of a pause that I know my gesture of comfort was successful.

"Do you have any idea where he could be?" I ask.

Trevor's lip starts to twitch. I can see the rage starting to flicker within him. I need to tread carefully.

"No clue," He snaps. "No fucking clue."

I grip his hand more tightly. I need to fucking stop.

"How was your poutine?" I ask. "Was it everything you hoped and dreamed for?"

He lets out a very nervous laugh. It's over, Trevor, I'm not going to push you any farther. Today is your day.

"Yeah, yeah yeah," He says.

I stand up and take his empty plate to the garbage. I have no idea where to even begin with our search. All we have is a name. It's not fucking much but it's a start. I have Trevor and he'll be enough to help me narrow the search. When I sit back down at the table, I make sure to plaster I warm fucking smile on my face.

"What do you want to do today?" I ask.

Trevor seems completely taken aback by my question. He furrows his brow. He looks so fucking cute when he's confused.

"What?" Trevor asks. "You don't have the whole fucking day scheduled out?"

He still doesn't believe me. I'll fucking admit, I've been beyond controlling lately. Trevor's been busting his ass and hasn't had a real fucking break in months. Part of this desire comes from the guilt I feel over last night.

"Nope, today is your day, baby," I explain. "We do what you want to do."

His eyes light up. He fucking gets it now. Trevor doesn't know where this is coming form but he doesn't fucking care.

"Can I fuck those girls!?" Trevor begs gesturing to the stupid bitches at the table.

I just flash him the sweetest fucking smile I can muster.

"If you want to sign their fucking death certificate, go ahead, babe," I say.

He lets out a glorious cackle and I find myself giggling along with him.

"It pisses you off that I want to fuck them doesn't it?" Trevor asks.

"Of course it does," I say. "It makes me want to punch them in the fucking mouth."

The edges of Trevor's lips curl into a devious smile. I can see the spark in his eyes.

"Then the first fucking thing I want to do today-is watch you beat the fucking shit out of them," Trevor says.

At first, I just laugh. He can't be fucking serious. Once my laughter fades though I can still see that desire on his face. He does fucking want this. I've gotten into plenty of fights in my time. I've beaten the crap out of bitches that were twice the size of those girls.

"Are you serious?" I ask.

I promised him that this was his day. I have to hold up my end of the bargain no matter what.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Trevor confirms.

I lean across the table and plant a kiss on his forehead. Once I get out of my seat and start walking over to them, I can hear him giggling with anticipation. The girls stop chattering as I come up to them. I'm not sure if I look the least bit intimidating but I'm damn sure I look crazy as fuck. I pull out the wire chair at their table and plop my candy ass down. They both look completely fucking disgusted with my presence. I put on a sunshine bright smile for them and flutter my eyelashes.

"Excuse me, ladies," I say.

Look at me, I sound like a proper fucking lady.

"I just couldn't help but notice you were checking out my man," I say. "And I'm afraid I have a major fucking problem with that."

Their eyes grow wider than the fucking cheap paper plates that are laying on the table. They glance at each other nervously. They laugh but, it's a sound that's filled with uncertainty.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the blonde one says.

I tilt my head to the side and smile.

"No, I think you fucking do," I press.

They both get up from the table. The blonde one is shaking like a leaf.

"We're gonna go, okay?" The brunette says.

No, you aren't fucking going anywhere. I grab the blonde bitch by the arm and slam my fist into her perfect fucking nose. Trevor's delightful cackle is ringing in my ears. The brunette starts to scream. I shove the blonde onto the cheap table and start pounding on her fucking face. Her friend starts smacking me with her purse. I barely fucking feel it. I feel the sweet rush of exhilaration as the bones in the blonde girl's face start to crunch beneath my fist. Now I understand why Trevor loves this shit so much.

I grow tired of the brunette's futile attempts to stop me. I slam my elbow into her throat and she lets out a desperate choke. The other people at the cafe start screaming and crying. Someone runs indoors and starts shouting at the baristas. Time is short now. I knee the bitch in the stomach and she falls to the ground. Trevor's screaming with complete and utter fucking delight. I can hear him clapping his hands as he cheers me on. I feel like I am on top of the goddamn world right now. I keep kicking that dumb bitch in her ribs until she stops screaming.

"Do not fucking look at another woman's man! Do you fucking get that now!?" I scream.

I hope to get a moment to catch my breath but, I can hear sirens coming down the road. The cafe is filling up with sounds of sobs and hushed voices. It has come time for us to depart, my love. I hope you're fucking happy. He's beaming as he runs over to me.

"I fucking love you," Trevor declares.

I can see the lights of the cop cars peaking over the horizon. Time's up. We run over to the SUV we stole this morning and climb in. He straps himself into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition. I can just feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I can't believe that the bitch has nothing to say at all right now. My heart is pounding in my chest and I fucking love the sheer look of joy on Trevor's face.

He backs out of the parking lot at full speed and slams into one of the cop cars. He pulls forward and the sound of metal scraping against metal hurts my ears. Trevor laughs. Jesus Christ, does he fucking laugh. He swerves down the highway. Cars veer out of our way and slam into the barriers. The red and blue lights are still flashing in the rear view mirror and the sirens still sound as if they are right next to us.

It feels like lava is coursing through my body. I'm on fire with excitement. The bitch is silent and it is the most glorious fucking feeling in the world. I feel no fear, I feel no hesitancy. I get it now, Trevor. I fucking get it. My whole body tingles with the pure exhilaration that has overwhelmed me. A logging semi breaks over the horizon and it's horn blares as we approach. Trevor just cackles and slams his foot on the gas. I brace myself as we careen towards it. For a split second, I think we're going to slam right in to it but at the last second, Trevor jerks the wheel and we veer out of the way.

The semi doesn't have enough time to respond. It topples on to it's side as it tries to get out of our way. We fly past it as it skids along the road. Sparks blast away from the trailer as it skids across the asphalt. The cop cars don't stand a fucking chance. There's no where for them to go. They try to swerve out of the way but the semi still slams into them. I gasp as I watch the semi go up in a glorious ball of flames.

The sight brings me nothing but pure and utter arousal. Trevor's laughter rings in my ears and I'm filled only with desire for him. Never in my entire life have I felt this fucking way. It's a borderline sexual excitement that has me starving for more. Is this how he feels everyday? Is that what it's like to live in his world?

"Did you fucking see that!?" Trevor cackles. "That was fucking amazing!"

His face is plastered with elation and he is radiating a psychotic energy that is infectious.

"And did you see those fucking bitches!?" Trevor roars. "You turned them into strawberry fucking jelly!"

I can barely focus on his words. I want to fuck, I want to steal, I want fight. I want to keep going until we fall over dead. An electric current is running through me and all I want is to make chaos with him. He's absolutely fucking nuts and I am too.

"I want you," I plead.

Trevor erupts with laughter and flashes me a devious grin.

"Look at fucking you," He hisses. "Madam Tight Twat has gotten herself a taste of the good life hasn't she?"

I can't resist him. Trevor Philips, I want you and I can't wait anymore. I start kissing him along his neck, relishing the sensation of his stubble against my lips. My hand dives down the front of his trousers and I lace my fingers around his cock. His breathing starts to quicken and I know I'm having an effect on him.

"Please," I beg. "Please, I fucking need you right now."

He grabs me by the hair and pulls me away. I barely even feel the pain on my scalp. His eyes are burning with desire and a sick smile starts to curl at the edge of his lips.

"Now, now," Trevor coos. "I'm in charge today, remember? This goes down on my fucking terms."

I'm shaking I want him so badly. I don't want this high to end. He pushes my head into his crotch. He groans and the sound fills my body with an even deeper need. I won't let him finish. Not like this. I want more. He can't take it anymore either. He pulls off down a gravel trail and the SUV careens into the forest. Branches smack against the windshield as we rumble down the road. I'm not even sure if its an actual road but, I can find no fucks to give.

He keeps driving until there's only forest visible in the rear view mirror. When the car comes to a stop he pushes me off of him. Sweat is dripping down his face and his cheeks are flushed.

"Get out," Trevor says.

I slink out of the car. The forest air is cool and I feel goose bumps erupt across my chilled skin. I watch him get out of the car like a lion watches a gazelle.

"The tree, get the fuck against it," Trevor hisses.

I back up slowly. I just don't want to tear my eyes off him. I take in every inch of him, every curve of muscle, every jagged scar. He is all I will ever want in this crazy life. I feel my back brush up against the rough bark. His eyes are glued to my body. The feeling of Trevor's gaze on me fills me with desire.

He grabs me by the ass and hefts me up into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and drape my arms around his neck. I press my mouth over his and we kiss. Our jaws dance as our tongues slide in and out of each other's mouths. My pants rip as he tears them away from my body. I don't fucking care.

This isn't love making. This isn't the product of that tender emotion. This is an act fueled by his psychotic rampage. We are animals. I hold nothing back and neither does he. With every grunt of pleasure that passes through his lips, I grow wilder. I never want this feeling to go away. I want to live in this moment, right fucking here, forever.

When he finishes he lets out a cry so loud that it echoes throughout the forest. I cling to him desperately. I want to hold on to this feeling as long as I can. He nuzzles his face into my neck. I can feel my clothes sticking to the sap of the tree. Our bodies are lathered with sweat making our skin feel sticky. We gasp as we desperately try to catch our breath.

"What next?" I whisper.

I can feel his breath on my neck as he laughs. I pull him in closer and run my fingers along the back of his neck.

"I want to fucking fly," Trevor says.

My heart breaks when I hear his request. How long has it been since he flew? It must've been over a year ago. I don't how I can possibly fulfill this desire but, I have to. I won't break my promise to him.

"There's a map in the glove box," I say. "We can check and see where the nearest airport is."

He sets me down as gently as he can. I feel the adrenaline rush slip away as our bodies lose contact. I don't want to come down from this high. I want to feel this way as long as I fucking can. The bitch was silent and it didn't take drugs, or cleaning, or picking, it took something new and exciting.

"I'll check the map," Trevor says. "You get dressed."

He zips up his fly as he walks back to the SUV. That thing is absolutely fucked after our adventure. The paneling is gnarled and all the black paint has been scraped off of the sides. The tail lights are gone and I doubt we'll be able to open up the back hatch. The zipper on my jeans is completely busted and some of the seems have pulled a part. It's easier to slide into them now. I can feel the slickness of his seed between my thighs and the bitch starts to whisper. We didn't wear a condom. I don't want to deal with this right now.

I watch Trevor spread out the map on the hood of the car as I walk over to him. I push the bitch's thoughts out of my head. This is his day. I will not let my bullshit take this away from him. Trevor traces his thick finger along the lines of the map. I can't tear my eyes off of him. His dark hair clings to his forehead in clumps and sweat drips down his temples. His eyes flicker up from the map and meet mine. I'm fucking done. I could have him again right here on the hood of this jeep.

"What?" Trevor asks.

"Nothing," I say. "I'm just trying to figure out how we're going to steal this plane."

It's not a total lie. I don't honestly know how we're going to pull this off. We'll need to get a new ride. What the fuck will we do when we have the damn thing anyway?

"There," Trevor says, pointing to a spot on the map. "It's about an hour away, it's a tiny air field. The security shouldn't be bad. We can cut through the fence. And then bam! We'll be fucking in the air, Momma!"

"Yes sir," I say.

He grabs me by the arm before I can get back into the jeep. When I look into his eyes, he seems deadly serious.

"Thanks for this," he says.

"Don't thank me yet," I say.

We jack a station wagon from an old couple on the highway. Holding the gun to their face brings back the high I felt earlier. It's a blessed relief to me. The bitch tormented me the entire hike back to the main road. I could feel the residue of our encounter on the tree seeping into my underwear and all I wanted was to scrub the fuck out of my privates. I'm smarter than this. I need to let this go.

The station wagon handles like shit when Trevor drives it. With all the traveling we do I just can't fucking believe that he is still a shitty driver. He seems nervous. I attribute this to the fact that he wants this to work out so badly. He wants nothing more than to grip the yolk of the plane and feel the dip in his gut as he lifts the craft off the ground.

I want to see it happen to. I never got to see him doing what he loves. What he loved. I want to see that fucking smile on his face when we're soaring through the clouds. Trevor says little on the drive to the air field. I suspect it's because he actually isn't fucking sure how we'll pull this off. I won't speak. I won't make a suggestion. This is his heist, this is his day. We do it his way even if we end up behind bars for it. If anyone is going to be able to steal a plane in broad day light, it'll be him.

On our left we see a break in the trees. He grips the steering wheel more tightly and shifts in the seat. He knows exactly what the flat stretch of land is. I'm surprised at how short the fence is. I've never had to a hop a fence, especially not one with barbed wire along the top. Trevor can't keep his eyes on the road when we see the small craft parked by the hangars. It's nothing serious business, just crop dusters and biplanes for skydiving. I place my hand on his shoulder to bring him back to the road.

He pulls off to the shoulder and puts the car into park. The wind is whipping through the blades of grass and whistles as it goes by the cracked windows of the car. His gaze is glued to those fucking planes. I always knew this was something that was significant in his life but it really hits home now.

"See one you like?" I ask.

I want him to know I'm still in on this. He doesn't even look back to me to respond.

"Yeah-" he says.

He doesn't sound sad but, I've never seen him concentrating this hard on anything . He wants this fucking bad. I dig the wire cutters out of our suitcase and plop them in his lap. That manages to snap him back to reality. A devious expression spreads across his face as he gazes down at them. He grips them tightly in his hand and then pushes open the car door.

Here we go. I can't see this ending well but fuck, today has been so amazing I don't care if it's our last. I go around to the trunk of the car to get our stuff but he stops me.

"No," Trevor says.

I don't question him. If he wants to leave behind all our money and clothes than fine. He writes the rules today not me. By now I've learned how easily such things can be replaced. The sky is clear except for a few wispy white clouds that are riding along with the wind. We're going to be up there? Its hard for me to imagine. I don't know shit about flying. Fuck, I don't even know if he can fly one of those damn things. How different is it from a fighter jet?

Trevor's arms bob up and down as he cuts through the wiring of the fence. I feel the buzz start to kick in. It makes me jumpy with anticipation. Fuck, I really want to pull this off. If we fucking make it out of this day alive I will spend the rest of my fucking life with him. I'll never tell him about this silent declaration. Trevor pulls apart the fencing and nods for me to crawl through.

I don't have a problem going in, but he does. His clothes catch on the fencing and he curses as he tears his shirt. I help him to his feet and he pulls on his shirt to get a better look at the tear.

"Bullshit," He hisses. "Lets just get this fucking show on the road."

"How-how are we going to get in one?" I ask. "I mean, we can't just smash the window-can we?"

"I'll worry about that," Trevor assures.

As we get closer to the air craft I marvel at how big they are. Fuck, they don't look so big from far away but once you're up close like this they're intimidating. He makes a b-line for the sleek yellow job sitting in the hangar. The wind is howling as it gets trapped in the rusty sheet metal walls. We're lucky as fuck that no one is here. But shit, we don't really know that do we?

He stands in front of the yellow plane for a moment. Trevor's shoulders slump and his face looks pained.

"Can you fly it?" I ask.

He won't look at me. To him this is the most beautiful thing in the entire creation of the universe.

"Yes I fucking can," Trevor assures. "Just give me a fucking moment okay?"

I back away. He walks around the perimeter of the craft. I watch him run his fingers along the metal as if it's the body of a woman. This shit has gotten too heavy. I still feel the faintest trace of exhilaration making my chest tense up. I want to see him fly. I want to know this mistress that has meant more to him than I ever did. I'm not sure what triggers it but some hidden voice in Trevor drives him to jump up and start fucking with the lock on the plane's door.

It doesn't take him long and the door swings open. Fuck, this is happening. My heart starts to race. He helps me crawl into the plane. It's far more fucking cramped inside than I was expecting. I can feel his hand pushing on my ass and I slide into the tiny goddamn seat behind the pilot's. This isn't how I imagined it in the car. I can't see shit. I barely fit back here. This isn't about me though.

Trevor climbs into the plane and slams the door closed. He can't quite get it to latch. That's fucking wonderful. He slams it closed a few more times and the door sticks. He's been so silent that I'm a little worried. He's so fucking focused. I can barely fucking contain myself. He lets out a cackle and all my doubts wash away.

"Fucking key's in the ignition," Trevor says. "Are you read for this, Momma?"

I strap myself in and tighten the belt across my waist.

"Fire her up, Trev," I say.

I watch him put the headset on and listen to the sounds of the straps clicking as he puts them into their proper place. The engine roars, it literally fucking roars. It's louder than the fucking explosion earlier this morning. His hand darts across the control panel as he flicks on the various switches. It's like watching someone conduct a fucking orchestra.

The plane lurches forward and I'm so excited I could retch. It was one thing to hear him talk about this all the time but to actually see him at work? Fuck, I'm done. Panties have been creamed. The plane creeps out of the hangar and I actually feel like my heart is crawling up my throat. He coasts the plane out onto the runway. Fuck, this is nuts. We're really fucking doing this. There's no fucking cops. We're going to get away with this.

The plane picks up speed as we go down the runway. It's the roughest fucking ride of my life. It feels like my stomach is falling through the floor as he pulls the plane up. I love every fucking minute of it though. The plane dips and sways as he levels it out.

"Fuck yeah, baby!"

I've never heard him sound this happy. The feeling it gives me is indescribable. The plane just keeps climbing and climbing. With every foot we ascend into the air his joy escalates. This isn't the same thrill I got from the car chase. Not even close. This is a beautiful fucking moment but, sadder than hell. This right here, this was all he ever fucking wanted.

We reach the right altitude and he's shaking the fucking yolk he's so goddamn excited. I feel myself starting to cry. Fuck it. I wish he could have this everyday. I wish I could hear this joy in his voice all the time. He's just a kid. Hes just a sad fucked up kid that's been shit on his whole life. The plane lurches to one side and I struggle to hold back my vomit.

It's like we're dancing in the sky. The plane dips, loops, and twirls through the wispy clouds with a grace that I never imagined it's pilot could possess. He lets himself go up here. He laughs like a kid in a fucking candy store. I'm too overwhelmed with happiness to give a shit about how his maneuvers make me want to puke. He levels out the plane again and when he speaks it sounds like a completely different man.

"Where do you want to go, hot Momma?" Trevor asks. "Anywhere you fucking want-"

Anywhere I want? Shit more like as far as the fuel tank will take us.

"To Canada, my boy!" I say. "I don't care fucking where. Just take me there."

I don't think I will ever feel happier than I do right fucking now. It's like some shitty fucking romance movie. We're literally flying off into the horizon. Fuck the rules. Fuck the bitch in my head and fuck Trevor's never ending rage. This right here made it all fucking worth it.

I'm actually finding myself drifting off now and then. I try to focus on his voice as he talks to me but it becomes harder and harder. This blissful contentment shit is really fucking relaxing. I give up on trying to stay conscious. I have never had such a peaceful slumber in my entire life. No nightmares of past abuses or the bitch's worries. I just dream of his face as his voice lingers in on the outskirts of my own personal dreamscape.

He shakes me awake. My eyes flutter open and I can see that twilight has fallen. It's dark in the plane and I can barely make out the strong features of his face. All I need to see is that smile on his face. I can't feel the sensation of motion. We're on the ground now. I can't get over how fucking quiet it is.

"Wake the fuck up, sunshine!" Trevor says. "You're a genuine Canuck now!"

I have nothing to say to him. I just grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. This day was absolutely fucking perfect. We made it out of this crazy fucking adventure alive. He seems just as eager as I am to end it all with a good fuck. We'll certainly have a giant fucking mess to clean up tomorrow. We almost don't have to think anymore when we tear off each other's clothes. I don't even need to see his body to know where all my favorite parts lie. It's cramped, sweaty, and just a nasty mess but I love every moment of it.

I hold him in my arms after it's over. He drifts off to sleep as I stroke the strands of hair that tickle his forehead. I trace the lines of his face with my fingertips. I will never be able to forget his face. How was your day, my sweet fucking prince? Was it perfect? Did it make up for the hell I've put your through? Did it heal all our wounds and turn us in to a normal fucking couple? Because it certainly feels like a miracle has been worked over on me.


	11. You feed me fables from your hand

I'm poring over the newspaper article that's describing how a stolen American plane was found in a Canadian farmer's field. I'm picking at my arm and I keep smearing bloody thumb prints on the thin grey newspaper. The bitch in my head is screaming for a thousand reasons already and this article just adds another fucking thing to her list. At least I got my fucking period. That's one fucking worry that I can forget about. The hotel room we're staying in reminds me of that fucking motel we lived in for a few months. The yellowing wallpaper is peeling off the walls and it stinks of dead rat for some fucking reason. Trevor is lounging on the mattress with collapsed springs and is huffing a cup of gasoline. My skin feels like cockroaches are crawling all over it because he's got the gas can resting on a pillow.

The article says they don't have a solid description of the suspect. Fuck, they don't even know there was more than one thief. I've read this article probably a thousand fucking times by now. The American law enforcement think the theft has to deal with an assault that happened along the border resulting in a massive accident on the highway. We barely got away with your little vacation, Trevor. I try to remember the feeling it gave me to watch that semi go up in flames. Maybe if I can have that again, the gnawing fear will vanish.

I will never regret that day, no matter how fucking bad my bullshit gets.

I can hear the gasoline sloshing around in Trevor's cup. Anything to give him a fucking buzz. I tried it last night but it didn't make a fucking dent in my anxiety. I have to clean up this mess we've made. I have to make all this go away before we can track down that mother fucker, Kenneth Manfield. Trevor lets out a revolting snorting sound as he takes another huff of the gasoline. He lets out a sigh that sounds like he's just cum in his pants. The only relief I've felt since we jacked that plane was the little gas station job we pulled a few days ago.

"Hey," Trevor barks. "Knock that shit off and come over here."

He's noticed my picking. He hates it. I don't let him lecture me about it anymore. All this twisted bullshit that comprises our relationship somehow has little packets of respect hidden within. I fold up the newspaper and toss it onto the splintering chair in the corner. Fuck, maybe he'll get the bitch to shut up. Reading that article again won't do me any goddamn good. I pick up the gas can like it's a dirty condom and toss it onto the floor.

"Come on," Trevor says, holding out the cup of gasoline. "Come fucking party with me."

I take the cup from his hand. The stench is awful and I already know this bullshit isn't my cup of tea.

"I don't feel like partying," I say. "There's too much shit on my mind."

He snatches the cup out of my hand and lets out a growl.

"There's always shit on your fucking mind!" Trevor snarls. "You got to fucking learn to let shit go!"

That just fucking pisses me off. Him, of all the fucking people is saying that to me.

"Because you are the fucking king of letting go and moving on!" I snap.

He throws that stupid cup against the wall and spills gasoline all over the goddamn place. The mess just infuriates me. That's a new fucking low for him. He's just doing this shit to get me revved up.

"You wanna fucking have this talk!?" Trevor says. "We'll fucking have this talk! Go ahead! Bitch away you fucking cunt!"

"Fuck you, Trevor!" I hiss. "It's not like I can just fucking wake up one day and all this shit will be over with! I gave up my whole fucking life for your stupid ass! So could you please back the fuck off for fucking once!?"

He pushes himself off the bed and starts pacing around me like a fucking tiger in a cage. I'm not fucking budging. I'm just going to fucking keep my candy ass planted on this goddamn piece of shit mattress.

"Get the fuck up and say that again!" Trevor yells. "Because I can't fucking hear you through all the whiney fucking shit pouring out of your whore mouth!"

I leap out of the bed. That son of a fucking bitch.

"I'm not fucking bitching!" I spit. "You're just so much of a goddamn baby! It's all fucking fun with you! If I didn't fucking worry about shit, you'd be fucking rotting away in a prison cell!"

He gets right up in my fucking face. His face is beet red and his nostrils are flared. His facial twitches are going ape shit.

"I would do just fucking fine without you," Trevor seethes. "In fact, I don't fucking need your ass around! I don't need your bullshit! I don't need your bitching! And I don't need your fucking filthy cunt!"

So, this is how it's going down? I'm so fucking furious I want it to be done. Get the fuck out. I don't want you anymore either.

"Then fucking leave!" I snap. "Go fucking crawling off into some fucking pit and don't fucking come out because I don't want to see your crazy ass ever again!"

Trevor Philips grabs me by the throat . I try to gasp for breath but nothing happens. His eyes are burning with hatred and the pressure on my neck feels like a thousand pounds. I'm going to die. He squeezes harder and harder until I can see black and white stars creeping into the side of my vision. My brain. Is not work as good. Do not. Think. Smack me his back. No. Don't want. No die.

He releases me. I gasp as the precious fucking oxygen fills my lungs. It feels like my heart is going to explode out of my chest. I stagger back and fall to the floor. My head still tingles as I trace my fingers along the tender flesh of my throat. It hurts so fucking bad. I can't think at all. He just tried to fucking kill me. It seems like there is an entire fucking ocean between us even though he's just standing on the other side of the room. When I look in his eyes, I can't recognize the man I fell in love with. I just see a rabid dog.

Trevor just walks out. I hear the door slam and it barely registers in my thoughts. This happened so fucking fast. My bottom lip starts to quiver and tears well up in my eyes. Why the fuck am I crying? I hate him so fucking much. I just feel like screaming though. I feel like my hearts being carved out of my chest. It feels like someone is shoving a knife in my neck as I sob. I can barely tell my limbs to obey me. I scramble to my feet. Oh Jesus, baby, please come back. Don't fucking go.

I didn't mean it. I didn't mean a fucking word. I push my way through the door. I can hear the wood slam into the cheap wall as I start running down the hall. I can't see him anywhere. Trevor, baby, Christ. I'm so fucking sorry. We were fucking great. We were so fucking great. How did we end up like this? I can hear my sobs echoing off the walls. I can barely see the door outside through my tears. The world around me has become a blur of colors and light.

"Trevor!" I scream.

My voice sounds like shit. It sounds desperate and scared. It's the most pathetic fucking sound in the world. I stumble out onto the street. The bitch is silent. My heart screams for him to come back. I scream his name over and over until my voice gives. I'm wandering the street like a mad woman. I must look fucking crazy. He's gone. He's nowhere to fucking be found. He fucking finally left me.

The next week is nothing but a drunken mess. I remember nothing but spending our money on enough vodka to kill a fucking elephant. I'm too intoxicated to clean. The hotel room is my prison. I want it to be my coffin. I don't want to live anymore without him. I watch my neck grow a ring of purple bruises and feel the growing ache as my last memory of him fades into barely visible shade of yellow. I sleep and cry and drink. Day and night has no meaning anymore.

My fingers sloppily paw through the last handful of bills. I have to count it a dozen times before I can make the numbers stick in my mind. What the fuck will I do with a hundred dollars? I'm in a foreign country and I don't know where the fuck I am or what the fuck to do. I have no one. I pull out my last bottle of booze and wrap my lips around the rim. I should've bought my ass some fucking pills. That would've killed me. I slop the liquid all over my lips as I chug it down. The room is spinning and I feel like I need to vomit.

I don't hear the door open. I think I'm dreaming when I see the pair of filthy jeans tucked into black boots. This is the fucking grim reaper coming to take me away. This is just some ghost coming to haunt me. It can't really be Trevor. There's no way my Airman would come back to me after all this time. The ghost kneels down in front of me; it torments me with his beautiful face. Just kill me. Just fucking kill me. I don't want to have these nightmares. I just don't want to exist.

I wake up feeling like my insides are on fire. My mouth tastes like shit and all I want to do is retch. How did I end up on the bed? My head is pounding. I try to roll off of the bed but I feel someone grab me firmly and pull me back.

"Whoa, whoa whoa. Easy there."

I know that voice. I feel like I'm going to die but, hearing that voice means more to me than anything else. I tilt my head so I can see his face. I have to see his face. I have to know. It's him. Trevor is curled up on the bed next to me. He looks like he's been through hell. His face is dark with a week's worth of beard growth. His eyes look hollow and his hair is wild. The rancid stench of his unbathed body fills my nostrils and I can't hold back the vomit anymore. I start to cough and roll back over.

He helps me out of bed and the feeling of his strong grasp on my arm is like a dream. A beautiful, perfect, fucking dream.

"I got ya," Trevor coos. "It's okay."

He presses his hand into my back as he guides me to the bathroom. I stumble and trip over the empty bottles that litter the floor. He won't let me fall. His arms stiffen to steady me with every step I take. I find it hard to absorb all of this when I feel so shitty. I barely make it to the salmon colored toilet. I dip my head down in the stained bowl and the vomit just pours out of my mouth. It burns and tastes like cheap booze. He gently pulls back my hair and I can feel his other hand stroking my back. How is this the same man that tried to choke me? I cough and gasp as I try to catch my breath.

"You feel better?" Trevor says.

He sounds amused. But only slightly. Shit's been heavy, Trev. Will we even talk about this? Or are we just going to carry on as if this never happened? It'll be like every other goddamn fight.

"I could stand for some improvement," I say.

It hurts to talk. The acid still burns in my throat. I sit back and he easies me back into his arms. There's no sensation more bitter sweet than feeling the warmth of his chest against my back.

"You're a fucking mess," Trevor points out.

He pulls the contemptible, orange towel off the crooked rack and wipes the remnants of vomit away from my lips.

"What were you trying to do, huh? Drink yourself to death?" Trevor asks.

I lay my head back and he tucks his chin over the top of my hair. I can hear his fucking heartbeat.

"I didn't think you were coming back," I say.

He wraps his arms around me and I burry my face in his skin. His presence is having a medicinal effect on me.

"I hadn't fucking planned on it," Trevor confesses. "You called me 'fucking crazy'."

"I know, I know. That was messed up. I'm so fucking sorry." I say.

I am too. I've said some pretty fucked up things to him but that one takes the cake.

"I don't break promises," Trevor says.

At first, I'm lost but then I remember. The memory is so far away from me that it's hard to grasp but, it's there. Trevor promised he'd never leave.

"That's it?" I ask. "That's why you came back?"

I don't give two fucks what his reasons are for coming back. I just want to know if this is really fucking happening.

"I missed you, Momma," Trevor says.

Fuck, I love you. I love you so goddamn much. We'll be the fucking death of each other, I know it.

"You're back? For good? I don't want to fucking do this ever again." I say.

He squeezes me so tightly I think my organs are going to fucking pop out.

"It's you and me until the end," Trevor declares. "Just don't you fucking ever say shit like that to me again. I just can't fucking contain myself when you get so-"

So, real? We have entered a new level of fucked up. It's like he's four different people crammed into one body. He's a thief, he's a murderer, he's a lover, he's a child. I'm full of just as much fucked up shit. We're the last fucking people on earth who should be together. We've just fallen so deeply into this hell that we can't escape from it. I don't even remember how to live without him.

"Sometimes you just make me so fucking mad. I could just fucking pop your head off like a goddamn Barbie doll's." Trevor rambles. "But fuuuuck! When it's good, it's fucking wonderful, Momma. It's like the fucking ultimate state of being."

I laugh.

"And when it's bad?" I ask.

I curl up against him and draw my knees up to my chest. I just want to be absorbed right fucking into him. I want to dissolve into his very essence.

"When it's bad, I want to fucking kill you." Trevor says. "Or fuck you; it's hard to tell the difference."

I thought I saw our end. I thought it had finally come to pass and it feels brand new all over again. I have promises I still need to keep. Trevor has kept his, now it's time for me to fulfill mine. I promised him Kenneth Manfield's head and I will bring it to him on a silver fucking platter.

"Well, no one's getting fucked until we clean ourselves up." I say. "You look like shit. I look like shit. We both smell like shit."

"Oooo," Trevor growls. "I am a very fucking dirty boy. Will you help me get squeaky fucking clean?"

The appeal of the shower is lost. I don't remember doing it but, the rod holding up the curtain was snapped in half. The curtain dangles uselessly to the side and water sprays all over the faded paint on the wall. The water pooling at our feet is turning into a nasty shade of brown. As the steam rises up and the water drips down the curve of his back muscles, I notice something different about him. I run my fingers along the base of his neck to try and smudge it away but it does nothing.

"Did you get a tattoo?" I ask.

He turns around and tilts his head to show it off to me.

"'Cut here?' Really?" I say.

Trevor beams with delight. He seems very pleased with this recent change.

"What?" Trevor says. "I thought, fuck, I'm not in the Force. I can do whatever the fuck I want. So I got a fucking tattoo. You got a problem with it? Well guess what, I don't give a shit."

I just laugh and shake my head. Fuck, I don't care what he does with his body. I have to admit, it's kind of sexy. He's a bad boy, he needed some fucking ink.

"I actually like it," I say.

The shower is helping with my hang over and seeing his naked body soaking wet is a plus. He's got that look in his eye now. I know it too well.

"Yeah? I know something else you'll like," Trevor says.

Every time we fight, we end up fucking. We had a big fucking fight and a long fucking time away from each other. This is going to take a lot of fucking to make up for the lost time.

"I'm sure you do," I say.

I grab the tiny bar of soap and start to lather him up. Fuck, I honestly don't give a shit how he smells. I just love the sight of him all covered in suds. Forgive me, I have a fucking pulse.

"You do know this is a bilingual country," Trevor says.

"What?" I say.

What the fuck. One minute he's getting me in the mood and now he's on about the nature of the goddamn Canadian government? Shit, kid, you're a fucking mystery to me sometimes.

"Well, I just happened to fucking notice that you Yankee bitches get nice and gooey when a guy speaks French," Trevor says.

Baby Jesus in a fucking gold plated manger. I don't like to admit to it but, yes, I do have a fucking fetish for that. Christ, what woman on the planet hasn't fantasized about that when she' s flicking the bean late at night? I just never connected the dots with him. I mean, I knew he grew up here. I just never thought about it. I can already feel myself growing excited by the idea.

"You're shitting me," I say.

He's grinning like the dirty fucking weasel he is.

"Je veux baiser la cervelle," Trevor whispers.

I have no clue what he just said but, I might as well have just cum right fucking there. Canadians don't speak French like the greasy looking fuckers you see in the European movies. It's a strange sound but, I really fucking like it.

"Wh-what's that mean?" I ask.

I don't honestly care but shit. With him all soaped up in this hot shower, talking to me in French, it's a genuine soft core porno.

"You don't give two fucks what it means," Trevor says. "Obtenir sur vos genoux."

Fuck, I'm done. Panties have been creamed. I lean in to kiss him but, he pushes me away. He's not mad; by the smirk on his face I can tell this is part of the fun.

"Obtenir sur vos genoux," Trevor repeats.

His voice is firm and I feel absolutely fucking ready to have him pin me against this scummy tile and have his way with me.

"Obtenir sur vos genoux!" Trevor presses.

As he speaks he pushes me down to the ground. I don't resist him. I am fucking putty in his hands. My knees slip on the slick surface of the tub so I brace myself against his legs. I love this new game. I will play this all fucking night if he wants.

He rubs his hands along the back of my head and says, "Sucer ma bite."

Trevor's hands push my face forward and I know exactly what he wants. His moans echo off the bathroom walls as my head bobs back and forth. The water starts to run cold and my limbs start to go numb. Fuck, he's back. He's fucking back. He grips my wet hair as if my head will fucking fall off if he lets go. What I assume are dirty French words, pour out of his mouth. This feels so right even though I know we're the biggest fucking wrong that ever could be.

The game goes on for what seems like days. We have to get to know each other again. We have to make sure that this really is the same as it was before. It's not the same. We're always evolving. Always growing into something far uglier than we were before. How twisted will things become before we finally go up in flames? Will I even survive that destruction? Trevor seems immortal to me. He's still so fucking young and full of potential. Even if his future is just as the world's most terrifying harbinger of destruction.

When we make love, I think about his hands wrapped around my throat. This isn't going to end well for me. He won't mean to kill me but it will happen. If I fall to his hand I don't care. I wouldn't want it any other way. It's sick. It's so fucking sick. I know now I was stupid to think I had control over him. I don't doubt his loyalty. There is nothing left to doubt with him. I'm only certain. I'm certain that we're both completely fucking nuts.


	12. With violent words and empty threats

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?" I ask again.

I watch Trevor as he carefully runs the razor along his neck in the bathroom. Streaks of foamy suds are left behind as he carefully shaves. He keeps nicking himself with the razor because of how close he's trying to shave. His face is riddled with the angry red cuts. We're in Ottawa now. In an actually fucking decent motel for once. And why is he putting so much effort into cleaning himself up? Because he's going to fucking visit his mother and this bitch right here isn't invited.

"No, just fucking trust me," Trevor says.

I lean up against the pristine white wall of the bathroom. He's a ball of nerves and his hand shakes as he draws the cheap razor across his skin. Fuck, he doesn't know how to pretty himself up very well. His hair is still dripping wet from the shower and he reeks of some god awful cologne. I try not to think about how much money he blew on all this. He bought himself some tacky suit from the thrift store. The pants are way too tight and he's rocking a moose knuckle pretty hard right now. We came here because the only lead we had on Manfield was Trevor's mom. We couldn't find his name in any phonebook. At least not yet and I thought his mom might be a good place to find some dirt. He wasn't even sure she actually fucking lived here until yesterday. He cuts himself again and lets out a curse. He throws the razor into the porcelain sink as a trail of blood trickles down his neck.

"Give me that," I say. "Can't have you fucking bleeding to death now can we?"

I rip off a wad of toilet paper and hand it to him. He presses it to his wound. The look in his eyes isn't really anger, he's nervous as fuck. I tilt up his chin with my hand. His skin feels slick and silky smooth. I pick up the razor and gingerly run it across his jaw line. I've done this a few times in my day believe it or not.

"I just would like to know what the big fucking deal is," I ask. "Why don't you want me to meet her?"

I see the annoyance flicker across his face. Damn it, talk to me. Are you fucking ashamed of me? Is that why I can't be fucking brought home to Mommy Dearest?

"If you came-things would get really fucking messy," Trevor says.

I get a little rougher with the razor. This pisses me off. We get a nice hotel room and he gets all fucking dolled up. Shit, I'm jealous. I'm jealous of his fucking mother.

"How bad would it be? Is she really that awful?" I press. "I can be ladylike if that's what you're fucking worried about. I can be a fucking princess."

I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't believe me. He falls silent for a while. All I can hear is the sound of the razor scraping across his skin. He finally lets out a deep sigh and mutters something. I can't really understand what he said. I pull away and give him a queer look.

"What did you just say?" I ask.

He looks fucking scared. He starts to shift back and forth on his feet. He mutters again but I still don't catch it. Jesus, is he speaking French again? Just come out and say it! It's like watching a little kid confess to dipping some girl's hair in ink.

"What? C'mon stop this shit- just spit it out," I say.

"I—" Trevor begins.

He stops himself though and starts to pace along the narrow stretch of glossy tile. I almost want to fucking laugh at him but he is genuinely fucking worked up.

"You what?" I say.

I try to sound soothing but it doesn't seem to help. He runs his fingers through his hair a few too many times and fidgets with discomfort.

"I've never brought a girl home and and and-," Trevor says. "And and-I needed to fucking discuss something with her."

That's it? I feel guilty but I giggle. Shit, I knew he was young but, I didn't expect this to be a big deal to him. I'm sure he's fucked plenty of women and it's not like he was fucking living right next door to mom so he could introduce them. And what the fuck does he need to chat about? Whatever he needs to say to her he can say in front of me too. I've been brought home to meet the parents a few times. I can handle myself. Sure, they still thought I was a trashy whore but, I don't give a shit if Mommy likes me. I'm not dating her.

"Oh baby," I coo.

I take his face in my hands to try and ease his nerves. I admit, my attention is caught by how smooth his face feels. I might try to work in a quicky before he leaves.

"Look, I know you're nervous. Shit you've got a lot running through your head right now too but, I really want to come along. She's your mother, I want to meet her," I explain. "What's the worst that could happen?"

This does not really seem to help him any. He's making that fucking puppy dog face again and I feel like my heart is going to explode.

"I just know she is not going to fucking respond to-this very well," Trevor says.

I coax him back over to the sink and start shaving him again.

"This?" I say. "What? You mean us?"

He makes it difficult for me to keep my hand steady with all his fidgeting.

"Yes, fucking us!" Trevor says. "She's just really possessive, okay?"

I smile. Oh, now it all makes sense. I knew he had mommy issues. Fuck, I mean he calls me every fucking incarnation of the word "mom" you could think of. That isn't really fucking typical pet names couples give each other. So, there's some root to our fucked up dynamic. So, Mom might be crazy. So, fucking what? I'm crazy too. I can handle her.

"Nobody's family is perfect, Trev," I say. "What's the worst that could happen? If she hates me- so what? It's not like she'll try and stab me in the face."

"I can see her doing that," Trevor says.

Well, she is the woman who spawned Trevor Philips. Should I really be surprised? I finish shaving him and wipe down his face with a damp, fluffy towel. I take a mental note that we should steal some of this ritzy shit before we take off from here.

"You wouldn't let her kill me because than you would never get the chance to yourself," I tease. "You know I can handle myself alright."

His brow is still furrowed in concern. I run the thin, plastic comb through his hair. No matter how many times I try to get his hair to lie down in the same direction it just won't happen. He's got the worst fucking cow lick I've ever seen and it's adorable.

"I just don't fucking know…" Trevor says.

This is starting to become a not so pleasant situation. I'm actually kind of hurt. I feel absolutely fucking selfish for feeling this way but, I do. Am I not a massive part of his life now? Fuck, we've been together for a while now. We've seen a lot of shit. He should introduce me to her.

"Fine," I say.

I can just hear the hurt in my voice. Fuck, I was trying to hide it. I didn't want to pressure him. As much as this sucks, I can tell he's uncomfortable. He's fucking falling apart over seeing his mom again. He shouldn't have to worry about me. Trevor snatches the comb from my hands and gives me a defeated look. Fuck, it's too late.

"Get ready," He sighs. "Just don't fucking expect this to go well."

I kiss him on the forehead and jump into the shower. Shit, I don't normally worry about my appearance. I don't honestly care most of the time. But Trevor is dressed up to the nines. He'll probably want me that way too. Shit shit shit. All I have are jeans and t-shirts. I never wasted my time with skirts and girly shit. I always just felt awkward and ugly in them.

When I get out of the shower, he's actually using mouth wash. Christ, this is some serious fucking business to him. I still don't see a point to all this flitting around. It's putting lipstick on a pig. I know, I'm the type to get anal about cleaning but, my appearance is a disaster. I can't remember the last time I did anything remotely special with my hair. He's still preening himself in the mirror when I decide I'm ready. He gives me a quick once over and just shakes his head.

"No no no no no, this isn't going to fucking work. Not at fucking all," Trevor says.

I have nothing. What the fuck is he expecting?

"This is all I fucking have, Trev!" I say.

His face starts to turn red and I can see him fogging up the mirror with his angry breaths. He just pushes me out of the way and storms back in to the room. He rummages through the plastic shopping bags that he's been hoarding in the corner of the hotel room. I watch them flutter to the ground after he tosses them into the air in a systematic manner. I'm too confused to say anything. I just watch him engage in this weird dance until he finally stands up.

"Here, I fucking was going to surprise you but, you fucking forced my hand!" Trevor snaps.

He's holding up the most hideous fucking dress I have ever seen. I don't have the greatest taste. I can't fucking deny that. But this? This looks like something a dominatrix stripper would wear. I doubt I can squeeze my thighs into that tight little number. It certainly fucking isn't appropriate for meeting his mother. It's an abomination of black faux leather. But what really has got me speechless is the fact that this is the first present he's ever bought for me.

"Babe-"

I don't know what to say.

"Just put this on, okay? We're gonna be fucking late," Trevor says.

He tosses me the dress. It smells like potpourri and the texture is like a worn out car seat. Fuck, so much for good impressions, Trevor. What the fuck was he thinking?

"Is there a problem?" Trevor asks.

I can hear the rising agitation in his voice.

"No-no," I say.

"Good, than fucking c'mon, let's go, we gotta go," Trevor pushes.

I tear off my clothes as quickly as I can. Well, Trevor was right. This is not going to fucking be a pleasant visit. Especially with this fucking costume on. I unzip the back of the dress. Please, God, let this fit. The cheap material clings to me like a glove and I can barely pull it up over my skin. Jesus, it's fucking tight. I have to hop and squirm around to get it on but I manage to. I'm scared to look in the mirror. God, if I didn't already come off as a nasty old whore before, I sure fucking do now.

"Will you zip me up?" I ask.

He looks absolutely fucking annoyed with me. He lets out a growl as he gets behind me. He tugs on the zipper so hard that he jerks me back. God, I can't even fucking breath in this thing. He rubs his hands down along my sides and they hover around my hips.

"You look great," He coos.

When he says it, I actually feel beautiful. It's a reminder to myself about what really matters. It's him and me. Fuck his mom. With him by my side, I can conquer the fucking world.

"Let's go, I'm getting a semi," Trevor says.

I feel like the entire hotel lobby has their eyes glued to us. He didn't pick up a pair of heels. Thank fucking god because I can't walk in them for shit. The way that Trevor carries himself tells me he gives no fucks about all the stares we're getting. He is completely clueless as to how far from presentable we actually look. I wonder who fucking taught him how to dress.

He makes a big deal out of gentlemanly gestures by opening every door for me. I'm not sure if he's prepping himself for this long awaited encounter with his mother or just is in a splendid fucking mood. I know for him this is more than a place to gather information. Mrs. Philips may know where Manfield is but it sounds like Trevor hasn't seen her in a while. It just reminds me how fucking little I know about his past.

As we drive down the street, I take in the sights of the city. Compared to the shithole we called home in North Yankton, this place is like a fantasy land. My mind keeps drifting back to my lover. I know I should be nervous about meeting Mrs. Philips. I should be thinking of the proper things to say and how I should present myself. I just don't care. I want to know about him. We've been together long enough now that I should know more about his past. I got a taste of it down by the lake all those months ago and ever since it's haunted me.

The magic of the city starts to fade into something more familiar, something trashier. At a stop light, I think I hear someone crying. I don't get a chance to figure out where it's coming from because Trevor turns up the radio. The mystique of Ottawa vanishes after seeing this neighborhood. It's just like every other city in the world. It's got shitty places with shitty people. I'm not surprised to see that Mrs. Philips lives in a place like this. Trevor seems to tense up as we pull into a very sad looking trailer park. I know it seems stupid to point out but, trashy Canadians look a lot like trashy Americans. Being in a neighborhood like this makes me feel like I'm at home though.

He stops the car in front of a trailer with shit colored siding. There's nothing special about it. It looks like every other old double wide that you see in a place like this. The lawn's overgrown and the blinds in the window are all busted to hell. It's special to Trevor though because of whose inside. Sweat is beading up on his forehead and he keeps tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He's practically shitting himself.

"Is this the place?" I ask.

I try to sound innocent. It seems to help sometimes when I act oblivious.

"Yeah-" Trevor trails off.

I trace my fingers along the back of his neck and watch the goose bumps spread across his flesh. When he looks over at me, I can tell my touch has not reassured him. Shit, kid, I wish I could read your mind sometimes.

"Let's go," I say. "I didn't squeeze into this fucking dress just to sit in a car all day."

I'm hoping to get even a flicker of a smile to spread on his face but I fail. This is going to be rough. It's like I'm not even here. I feel like I'm naked as we walk up to the trailer. I keep my hand pressed against the small of his back. I'm here, Trevor. Don't you forget that even though you're too busy wrapped up in your own thoughts. He pauses at the door and takes in a deep breath. From the outside, it looks like he's examining the tears in the screen door but I know he might as well be looking right through it. Trevor lifts his hand up a few times but doesn't have the courage to knock. I can't take it any fucking more. I knock on the door and he goes rigid. Time to put on a fake smile and act like the perfect fucking girlfriend.

The door creaks as it swings open. I can barely make out the curvaceous figure behind the screen door. The air that's wafting out of the trailer is rich with the scent of rose petals and cigarette smoke. It's fucking disgusting.

"Well, well well. Look who finally decided to pay his mother a visit."

I'm taken aback by her accent. She's British? Hot fucking piss. I wasn't expecting that. She pulls open the screen door and I'm even more shocked. I thought I looked like a skank in this dress but, Trevor's mom takes the fucking cake. She's wearing a hot pink tube top and a purple zebra print mini skirt. She's got way too much cheap costume jewelry dangling from her neck and her hair looks like it's was dipped in fruit punch. Mrs. Philips is just a worn out old whore. Fuck, I'm not sure what I was expecting.

"H-h-hi Mommy," Trevor stammers.

Holy shit, he sounds absolutely fucking terrified. I didn't think it was possible after all this time to see something new about him but here he goes surprising me again.

"Who's this?" Mrs. Philips says.

Fuck, she doesn't even know my name and I can already hear the contempt in her voice.

"This is-" Trevor begins. "This is-my g-g-ga-"

"Girlfriend?" Mrs. Philips says.

I feel a chill run down my spine when she says that word. She doesn't try to mask the fact that she's looking me up and down from head to toe. Mrs. Philips wrinkles her nose as if I'm covered in pig shit.

"Nice to meet you," I say.

I sound like a fucking ray of sunshine.

"Trevor-I don't hear from you or see you for five years and you show up on my door step with some two dollar floozy? How old are you, sweet cheeks? Forty? Fifty?" Mrs. Philips says. "Are the one who's been keeping my boy away from me?"

Well, isn't she fucking charming. She hasn't even let me in the goddamn door and she's insulting me.

"I'm actually only thirty-one," I say.

I'll keep up the manners just for a little while longer. If she keeps pushing me though, I'll let loose. I'm holding back for him.

"Oooh, only thirty-one?" Mrs. Philips hisses. "Still too old for him. But look at you Trevor. Your hair's thinning out. That's such a shame. You never had a pretty face and that won't help you find someone less-cheap."

This bitch. This fucking bitch. I clench my fists and put every fucking ounce of energy I have into keeping that plastic fucking smile on my face.

"M-mo-" Trevor stammers.

"You know, it takes a lot of nerve for you to show up here like this you little piece of shit," Mrs. Philips says. "After all I've done for you, this is how you treat me? I bet you didn't even finish flight school! Where's your uniform? Where's all the glory for your mother? I knew you couldn't do it. Is that why you paid some hooker to pose as your girlfriend? So, you could pretend you had something to show off to your mother? I'm smarter than that, Trevor. Just look at you. That suit doesn't fit you. Don't you know how to take care of yourself? Didn't I teach you better than this—"

"You need to shut your fucking mouth." I snap.

Trevor's mouth just hangs open and he stares at me in pure horror. Mrs. Philips narrows her eyes. Her gaze is locked right fucking on me. Go ahead. Fucking look at me. She hasn't given him a chance to speak and all she says to him is this shit? After she hasn't seen her own fucking son for this long and this is how she treats him? Where are the hugs and the cookies and the baby photos and all that horse shit?

"What gives you the right to talk to me like that, you hussy!?" Mrs. Philips says. "You should be groveling at my feet trying to get my approval."

Trevor's frozen. He has this deer in the headlights look in his eye and I know he's not going to back me up. Fuck, after five fucking minutes around this bitch so much shit about him makes sense now.

"Fuck you!" I scream. "Trevor's done more with his fucking life than your skanky ass could ever fucking accomplish! He's the best fucking pilot in the world! He's your fucking son! You should be proud of him! You can call me whatever the fuck you want, but don't you ever fucking talk to him like that in my fucking presence, you dried up old clam sack!"

Mrs. Philips goes rigid. Finally, the fucking witch reacts. Trevor tries to take a step back but I push him back forward. Oh no, I'm not walking away from this bitch. If she's treating him like shit right now, I can guarantee she's treated him this way his whole fucking life. Mrs. Philips is just like my dad, a condescending twisted fuck.

"You sure talk big for a herpes ridden slut, don't you? Trevor, I'm sorry but I can't have this filth in my house. Why don't you drop her off back at her corner and come back? Hmm? Oh and bring Mommy a nice bottle of wine. You need to-"

I fucking leap at her. I can't take another second of listening to this garbage pouring out of her over painted lips. My fists are flying through the air and she swings right back. She's a tough son of a bitch too. Her acrylic nails slash across my face. My flesh slices like butter and I feel the hot blood pour down my face. I know where he got those scars now. I'm so fucking blinded by anger I can't think. We claw and kick at each other like feral cats in an alleyway. Her ring plastered fists slam into my face and I feel some of my teeth come loose. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. Trevor's screaming at us but it does nothing.

I don't even think as I swing my limbs around at her. I will break her fucking neck. I will rip those cheap earrings out of her ears and shove them up her saggy ass. Trevor's massive arms pull us apart as he snivels like a baby. Mrs. Philips pushes herself away from him but, I'm not done. I try to claw my way over his shoulders to get to her. He wraps his arms around me and flings me over his shoulder. I kick and snarl and reach for her like a rabid fucking animal.

"Get this psychopath out of my house, Trevor!" Mrs. Philips shrieks.

He herds me outside and I latch on to his collar. Mrs. Philips slams the door behind him and Trevor tosses me onto the lawn. I roll through the thick brush and spit blood all over the dirt. Trevor starts pounding on the door as he cries hysterically.

"Mommy, open the door! Mommy! Noooo!" Trevor sobs. "Open the fucking door, Mommy! Please!"

I can barely see out of my right eye and my face feels like it's only being held together by my skin tissue. I push myself off the ground and limp over to him. He looks pathetic and I can't stand it. The trailer is silent though and I know that she won't answer his cries. She fucked me up pretty badly but, not as badly as she did him. My parents fucked me up too but, I've moved on. He's still clinging to this sick sack of shit that he calls mother.

I pull him away from the door but, he won't stop crying.

"Babe," I say.

I can barely understand myself when I speak. My lips feel like fucking rubber balloons that have been tacked on to my face. He crawls back to the door and keeps banging his fists onto the cheap metal. He's just babbling nonsense now. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him away.

"Come on, Trev, she's not gonna open the door!" I shout. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"

I have to drag him down the splintering steps of her stoop and through the yard all the way back to the car. My limbs are screaming from the strain his weight puts on my muscles. He flails and struggles as I try to shove him back into the car. This encounter brought out something primitive within him that is beyond reasoning. I finally manage to get him in the car and strapped in. I'm in no fucking condition to drive but I need to get us the fuck out of here.

Trevor sobs and starts beating on my chest with his fists. I try to grab him by the wrists but he keeps slipping out of my grasp.

"Look what you fucking did!" Trevor cries. "You can't talk to my mother like that! You fucking ruined everything!

Shit, after all the nasty stuff that came out of her mouth he's mad at me?

"You have to make this right! You said this was going to be fine!" Trevor sobs. "I want my Mommy!"

He squeals and cries like a fucking three old little boy. Shit, I hate her with a passion but he's really upset. Jesus, the last fucking thing I want is to get out of this car and walk back up to that trailer. I'm a bloody fucking mess. I want to go back to the hotel and slap some ice on my face and pass the fuck out.

"Mommy! I'm sorry!" Trevor cries.

He won't stop. I can't make it stop unless I do the one fucking thing I don't want to. I push open the car door and step back out onto the lawn. I love him too much to let this keep going on. I'm doing this for you, Trevor. Fuck your mom. I can still hear him screaming and slobbering in the car as I walk back up those shitty steps to the door. The rage is still coursing through my veins. I can't fucking believe she spoke to him that way. No one's allowed to fucking talk to Trevor that way. Shit, I know I can get nasty with him sometimes but she's just gone above and beyond anything I've ever said. I build up the courage to knock on the door.

Silence. I let out a frustrated sigh. I will make this right, baby doll, I promise. I knock again and there still isn't a response.

"Mrs. Philips?" I call. "I know you're in there. Can we please just fucking talk?"

When I speak, my words blend together slightly with a lisp. Shit, the bitch fucked up my lip.

"Go away you filthy hussy," Mrs. Philips says.

Her voice sounds muffled as it comes out of the trailer. At least I have her talking now.

"Please, Mrs. Philips," I beg. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot."

"Got off on the wrong foot?" She mocks. "You punched me in the goddamn face!"

She does have a point there. I lean up against the outside wall of the trailer. I can still hear his muffled cries coming from the car.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Philips, please. I want to make things right. For Trevor. He loves you," I say.

I can hear the door creak open and I stand to attention. She's barely cracked it open and I can't see her still.

"I don't like you," Mrs. Philips declares.

I can feel blood dripping down from my nose and I wipe it away with my fingers.

"That's fine," I say. "You don't have to like me. Trevor hasn't seen you in forever. He really missed you. Please, just let us in to talk."

The silence that hangs in the air makes me nervous. I hate her, she hates me but all I care about is calming him down. The sun is beating down on my pulverized skin and my whole face is throbbing. She opens the door all the way and leans out. I took out a chunk of her badly dyed hair during the fight along with one of her over priced earrings. She still looks a lot fucking better than I do right now. Bitch knows how to defend herself.

"Get down on your knees and beg," Mrs. Philips orders.

You have got to be shitting me. I'm about two seconds away from spitting in her face but, the sound of his anguish keeps me in line. I can't look her in the eye as I kneel down on the dirty stoop. This is for Trevor, you cunt, not in a million fucking years do I actually give a fuck about your forgiveness.

"Please," I say.

My voice could barely fucking pass off as sincere. It takes all the fucking strength I have to smother the fury I'm feeling.

"Forgive me," I say.

I don't know if I can bring myself to say anything more. I'm on my fucking knees, bleeding out like a goddamn pile of road kill, this is a new low for me. Her makeup is still smeared all over her face from the fight but her expression looks absolutely fucking cold.

"Hmmm, I might be persuaded to forgive you if you lick the bottom of my shoe," Mrs. Philips says.

God fucking damn she is really pushing it. I feel nothing but disdain for this sack of shit. She lifts up her shoe and sticks it in my face. As I get down on all fours, I try to focus on Trevor's sobs coming from the car. If I didn't fucking love you so damn much, this bitch would be dead. The bitch in my head starts to scream as I draw my tongue across the rough surface of her shoe soles.

"That's it, you filthy scag, get it nice and clean, "Mrs. Philips hisses.

I will come back and murder you one day you crazy fucking bitch. I will rip off your wrinkled fucking face and shove it up that dusty, venomous trap you call a vagina. I can feel the grit of the dirt on my tongue and the bitter taste of the cheap leather shoe. The bitch is screaming so loudly in my skull that I just want to reach up and tear up those fucking scratch marks on my face until I've peeled off every inch of skin I have. She pulls her shoe away and I recoil slowly.

"I don't forgive you, but you can come in. Just get him to stop fucking bawling, it's absolutely pathetic," Mrs. Philips says.

She sounds so fucking nonchalant. Yes, the victory goes to you this time. I can't say a fucking word to her. I brush the dirt off my knees when I stand up. It will take a lot of fucking restraint to stop myself from clawing my own flesh off. The hotel room will be spotless tonight and by the time I'm done I will look like pepperoni pizza. I didn't think I could hate someone more than I hate my parents but, Mrs. Philips has proven that such a feat was possible.

"Hey, Trev!" I holler. "C'mon! We're best fucking friends now!"

It's like a switch gets flipped in his head. He comes sprinting out of the car and leaps up the steps. It's like I don't fucking exist. He wraps his arms around that bitch and squeezes her like a gorilla with a new baby kitten.

"Oh Mommy! I missed you so much!" Trevor cries.

He's still sniveling like a baby and all I want to do is dismember something. I can barely listen to the endless love he pours out on her as we walk into the trailer. I thought our relationship was fucked up but, after seeing them together I think we're not that fucking bad. Shit, you better fucking appreciate the shit I just put myself through to make this reunion happen. If she doesn't know anything about Manfield's location I might just consider killing myself. My skin is crawling and I want to be anywhere but here. Mrs. Philips excuses herself to make herself more presentable. Go ahead and fucking try bitch, nothing's going to fix your crazy ass though.

The interior of the trailer makes me want to barf all over myself. It's the tackiest fucking thing I've ever seen. Everything is a mix of animal prints and gaudy colors. All I see are pictures of her with strange men who look just as fucking disgusting as her. You'd expect a mother to have a million photos of her son on display but not this bitch. It's all fucking about her. Trevor's eyes are all puffy from his tantrum but he's grinning like a baby. Seeing him smile actually fucking helps me feel less like a slug.

I feel like I'm going to cry when he reaches over and takes my hand in his. Jesus, how can something so simple make me feel like I'm about to fall apart? I relish the feeling of his hot, moist palm pressing against mine. This is what makes it all worth it. This right fucking here. When Mrs. Philips emerges from the bathroom she looks like a clown. I can barely tell that she fucking changed her outfit. It all just looks the same to me. Just more animal print and bad neon colors.

"I suppose it's pointless to ask if you brought me flowers or some nice new earrings?" Mrs. Philips asks.

The smile falls away from Trevor's face and he looks panicked. He looks over to me as if hoping that I can magically conjure up a solution for this dilemma too.

"That's what I thought," Mrs. Philips sighs as she eases herself into the giraffe print chair.

I don't want to put up with her shit. I don't know how long I can hold myself back from punching her in the fucking teeth.

"We could use your help with something," I say.

Trevor grips my hand more tightly. It's not a warning, it's a desperate plea. No worries, my darling. No fucking worries.

"Oh, I see," Mrs. Philips says. "That's why you show up. You need something from me. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised. You could never do anything yourself, Trevor."

Trevor's bottom lip starts to tremble.

"That's not true, Mommy," Trevor says. "I did want to see you. I promise I wanted to see you."

She just examines her long painted nails as if he hasn't said a fucking word.

"We both know that's not true, Trevor," Mrs. Philips says. "You don't love me at all."

I can't deal with this. I can't fucking deal with this at all.

"Do you still talk to Kenneth?" I ask.

Let's get this mess over with so I can get him the fuck out of this hell hole. She looks confused and I'm not surprised. By all these photos on the walls, I can bet she has a new man every fucking day of the week.

"I don't know what you're on about," Mrs. Philips says.

I notice that Trevor has gone stiff again. I feel bad for just bringing everything out in the open like this but, I feel like I have to be direct with her. Fuck, I doubt she'll have anything remotely useful for us.

"You dated him a long time ago-" I begin.

I'm nervous to mention Ryan. I already know how Trevor will react to hearing his dead brother's name but, this crazy bitch? Trevor's starting to get that deer in the headlights look again and I'm worried. I can't deal with another fucking breakdown today. I just can't.

"Listen," Mrs. Philips explains. "I don't remember a Kenneth and I don't rightly appreciate your fucking questions. I'm having a visit with my son, who has been very negligent mind you, so if you could just shut your mouth that would be lovely."

Fine. I listen to her rip him apart and his desperate pleas to her that her statements are false. I want to block out their words but, the bitch just repeats them a thousand times louder in my brain. I can feel one of my teeth fall out in my mouth and I can taste the fresh blood. I want to scream and trash this shitty fucking trailer. I want to break the windows and shake the shit out of Trevor. How can he not fucking see that she's a toxic fucking cunt? How can he worship her like this? It makes me fucking sick. I have to excuse myself to the bathroom.

I can still hear their muffled voices even after I slam the thin door. I spit the bloody tooth into the sink and my jaw screams in pain. I'm just a fucking disaster. Who am I kidding? This was a disaster. I splash water on my face and watch my blood swirl down the drain. The bathroom stinks of some artificial strawberry scent and I've never seen this many bottles of lotion in my fucking life. I fucked everything up and we won't even get any information out of this. The powder pink walls make me feel even more nauseous than I already am.

When I step out of the bathroom, Mrs. Philips gives me a look of complete fucking scorn. Fuck her, fuck this. It was a waste of time. Leaving is a nearly impossible task. She nags him to stay and I have to practically push him out the front door. Hell fucking no he is not moving back in and he is not fucking rubbing your feet, you crazy cunt. He promises to be a better son and I just want to rip out her throat and watch her flop around on the floor like a dead fish. I never want to come back here again.

In the car ride back to the hotel, he sniffles a bit but, other than that he's silent. My head is throbbing; my whole face feels like it's made out of pudding. My mouth has that rusty taste of old blood. I'm expecting a fight when we get back to our room. He can't have possibly forgiven me for attacking his mother like a blood thirsty piranha. Once her presence wears off on him, he'll be back to the man that I know. I hear a muffled sob. At first, I think it's him but the voice is way too feminine to be his. I glance over to him and I see a devious look in his eye.

"Did you hear that?" I ask.

He lets out a low cackle and his signature crooked grin makes an appearance again. The sight makes me smile too. I rather have my psychotic boyfriend than that sniveling pussy I saw earlier today.

"I may have another surprise for you," Trevor admits sheepishly.

We pull off down a dark alley and I start to feel all those nasty emotions ebb away. We're not even home yet and it's back to the same old fucking mischief. He parks the car behind a brick building. When the engine goes quiet, the muffled sobs sound much clearer in my ears. That is definitely the sound of a bitch crying. He takes my hand in his and looks me square in the eye. He looks so fucking content and it just fills my heart with a swell of joy.

"Thank you for making things right with my ma," Trevor says. "I'm really fucking proud of you."

Thank fucking Christ. He doesn't hate me even after my latest fucking stunt. All I can see is love in his red, puffy eyes.

"I did it for you, baby," I say.

We lean in for a kiss but, the sound of someone banging in the trunk makes me freeze. Jesus, did he fucking kidnap a hooker again? I let out a sigh and shake my head.

"What's in the trunk?" I ask.

He bites down on his bottom lip and shrugs.

"There might be a Mexican prostitute," Trevor says. "And that may be where I got your dress."


	13. And it's sick that all these battles

We've been hopping from town to town for what seems like months. We rob liquor stores, gas stations, pawn shops, and any tiny shithole that has someone we can shove a gun to their temple and receive funds. Every little piss pot Canadian town we stumble into, we search for Manfield. Somewhere he's out there. But with every new place we just find another disappointment. I keep Trevor focused on our goal but, it's starting to eat away at me. If it weren't for me, this would slip away and he would chase after the next score. He would forget about that gaping wound in his soul and disappear into the next great adventure. Watching Trevor slowly lose hope only drives us to newer lows.

The only time I don't feel guilty is when I'm high. It doesn't matter what it is; booze, crystal, heroine, pot. Most of the money we get goes to that now. It makes it harder for me to silence the bitch now though. I have no way to make things perfect. I've given up on that. The only thing I can do to silence the ever present voice in my head is to claw at my skin. I can barely remember a time when it was smooth and beautiful. It seems so long ago. I tell myself when Kenneth Manfield is dead than everything will be perfect. I know its lies. We won't magically become sane or rich or any less evil.

I feel no hope when we enter this new place. Its name escapes me. My mind is full of a painkiller induced haze. My jaw feels loose when I try to talk and my fingers and toes tingle with numbness. I watch Trevor climb back into the car with the floppy phonebook tucked underneath his arm. He looks so worn out now. It wasn't that long ago that he was the sprightly Airman I met in North Yankton but our new life has pushed our bodies to the limit. I can't imagine how awful I look. He's still so beautiful to me. I can never see that changing, even when I'm eighty and he's nearly a decade behind me.

He splays out the phonebook in his crotch and starts to flip through the thin yellow pages. I hear myself speak but I don't quite understand the words that are coming out. I am numb. I must've been running my nails along the scabs of my face because he looks up and slaps my hand away. This could start a fight but my head is too fuzzy to care.

"I'm not buying you this shit again," Trevor says. "You're like a fucking pillow case full of swine lard right now."

I go through the motions of laughing but, it doesn't sound like that cackle is coming from my body. He seems furious by my reaction but, I can't feel even a flicker of fear. He tosses the phonebook onto my lap and curses beneath his breath. Trevor reaches over and rifles through the glove box. I watch him rip out the bottle of painkillers and toss it out the window. I reach out after them but the gesture is weak. I glance down at the phonebook that now lies in my lap. He starts to scream at me and the spit flies out from between his lips like an assault of bullets.

"No more pot! No more fucking pills! You only take shit that keeps your head in the fucking game!" Trevor screams. "I'm not hauling around your sorry ass like you're a fucking human vegetable! We're a team goddamnit!"

I watch the pages of the phonebook fall to the side as his rage filled words turn into meaningless jargon in my ears. Fuck, I want to laugh and there is nothing funny about this situation at all. The grasp of the painkillers grows stronger with every passing instance. The more I laugh at him, the redder his face gets and the louder he screams. He smashes his fist into the steering wheel like a gorilla. I think I took too many pills. It's like time has started to go on more slowly. My gaze falls to the yellow pages. They have an eerie glow to them now and are undulating like ocean waves. Trevor's voice sounds like an old radio in my head and it slowly drifts off into a sound that can barely be heard. The rest of the world seems to fall away except for one precious thing. I stare down at the name in the phonebook and feel my mouth fall open. It's like a beacon in the night, blinding my eyes to the darkness all around. I brush my fingertips across the print, expecting it to feel like warm honey but it's just ordinary paper.

I feel my lips move as I say Trevor's name to try and show him. He shouts at me as I hold up the phonebook. I found him. I found him, Trevor. I can't break through his rage in this state. I can barely get my thoughts to keep moving forward. It's as if I'm marching through a thick layer of fog. I hold out the phonebook to him and he snatches it from my hands. By the look on his face, I know he has seen the same thing I have. There is a new focus that can be seen in his eyes now. We found Manfield.

I'm amazed that he waits for me to come back down from this high before we make our plans. He keeps that torn out page from the phonebook as if it's a priceless baseball card. We're sitting on the curb in front of a gas station with barred up windows. Its dark, I'm not sure how late it is. I don't remember watching the sun set and Trevor never seems to get tired. He takes another bite out of the shitty hotdog and I watch the mustard drip down onto his trousers. Now that the painkillers have worn off, my mind immediately fixates on the bright yellow stain.

I feel no hunger, only the need to fulfill our new purpose. The lights of the gas station cast an unearthly glow about Trevor. He could almost pass off as an angel if I didn't know him so well. We must look homeless to the sketchy people that pass us by on the street. I used to be so bothered by the way his lips smacked when he chewed but it has turned into a trait that I love. It's a part of him and I want it to never change. The ground is glistening from the faint autumn rainfall that came down earlier in the evening. To me it's the most romantic fucking place we could be. Everything has fallen into place for fucking once.

"We can't just walk up to his house and knock on the door," I explain. "We need to have something set up first."

I can see Trevor roll his eyes as he chews. One day, he'll appreciate a good plan when he's older and less cock sure.

"So just get fucking on with it," Trevor says. "What's the grand scheme?"

He spits out little chunks of bread and meat when he speaks and I watch them plop onto the damp ground.

"First things first, we need to find a place to dispose of our…waste," I say. "Then, I'm thinking we set up a place to stash a new car. We're going to need to get the hell out of dodge once this goes down. We'll burn the old ride and head straight back for the States."

I've never planned anything like this before. I don't think we're capable of pulling this off. But, if I end up losing him over this it'll be the death of me. I'll die happy as a pig in shit though.

"Okay," Trevor says. "But that seems to deal with all the clean up shit, what about the during? Huh? What about the stabbing and the strangling?"

He's ready for this and I should be terrified. Have we really slipped this far down the rabbit hole? We're planning a murder now and the only thing the bitch is worried about is the stains on Trevor's clothes. I'm completely fucking off my rocker.

"I worry about clean up, baby," I declare. "You can do whatever you want to that sack of shit."

Fuck, the look on his face when I say that. It's like I just presented him with a box of condoms, some duck tape, and a drugged up hooker. The anticipation might be too much for him to hold back.

"Now that's a fucking plan I can get into," Trevor says.

He stuffs the last of his hotdog into his mouth. I watch the crumbs fall to his shirt as he chews. I pick at the bits until his shirt is clear of them. I brush away whatever remnants are on his shirt. I cleaned up this mess just like I clean up every fucking one he makes.

"We need to pick up some hair dye," I say. "Grow out your mustache too. We need to make sure that we look like completely different people before we knock on that door."

He pulls a cigarette out from his jacket and slips it between his perfect lips. The lines of his face glow from the orange embers of the cigarette.

"What else?" He asks as he lets out a plume of smoke from his mouth.

Watching him smoke stirs something deep in my gut. The way his lips gingerly wrap themselves around the cigarette is almost sensual and it drives me wild.

"New clothes," I say. "We'll need a set for before and after. We need some shovels, jerry cans, and whatever weapon you've decided would be best-"

He grins and his nostrils flare as he takes in another drag from his cigarette.

"Let's just stop by the hardware store, Momma," Trevor says.

I can see the glint of his teeth in the street lights as he grins. We lay out our plans and as the conversation goes on his excitement grows. I worry he won't be able to hold back that he'll want to go right now and send us straight into a lifelong sentence in a Canadian prison. He shakes from the pure exhilaration that is pumping through his body and he's nearly salivating he wants this so badly. I only know of one way to quench his thirst. I grab him by the hand and guide him to the filthy alley behind the gas station.

I push him against the brick wall with its peeling white paint. I pin his wrists to the wall and watch the smile flicker across his face. His broad chest heaves up and down as he takes in hurried breaths. I draw my tongue along the curve of his neck and relish the shudder of pleasure it brings him. He seems to be welcoming the chance to take on a passive role tonight. He has no clue what a smart choice that was. The bitch in my head is screaming about all of this. This alley is littered with trash and if just one person peeked around the corner we'd be caught. But as I undo the top button of his shirt with my teeth, I start to feel that ravenous craze come over me. The bitch's cries can never be heard when I fall into that glorious spiral of insanity.

We are fucking nuts, baby. We go at it like dogs in heat. Knocking over trash cans and laughing like maniacs. Even when we hear the shouts of the store clerk, we don't stop. I watch Trevor beat the living shit out of the poor clerk. The sound of their agonized grunts is overshadowed by Trevor's cries of delight as he finishes me off. We're mad. We're absolutely fucking mad. We've evolved into a demonic orchestra of violence and sex. I know our destructive war path can't go on forever. He'll kill me or we'll be put down by society to save the rest of the world. Dani wouldn't want it to end this way. Kimmy would expect better of me too. Neither of them ever realized just how broken I was. Trevor could see it even way back when he picked me up at that bar. He must've always known. He must've seen the crazy in my eyes and known we were meant to be. Even if we are doomed to fail, this love affair was meant to happen. Only a supernatural force could bring together such twisted people to create such a hideous romance.

Two weeks. It takes that long to finally get all our shit together. The only way I can hold Trevor back is with a steady supply of drugs and pussy. I'm bruised and battered and love every minute of it. Every ounce of energy is poured into keeping him contained. I feel a sense of relief as I adjust the platinum blonde wig on my head. I don't know how much longer I could've kept that monster caged. I can still see the bruise faintly peeking out from beneath the thick layer of makeup I've applied. Fuck, I know its Tina Turner bullshit but he has gotten rough with me during sex. I let him do it. I know it's messed up and I know it's just another slip down this spiral into hell. Shit, we're about to go fucking commit murder and I'm thinking about how he hits me when he fucks me? We're already fucked. I add more of the powder to my face. I can see Trevor's reflection in the mirror as he stands in the open doorway. He managed to get a nice handle bar mustache started but I had to touch it up with some more makeup artistry. It suits him rather nicely. I can see him looking like this is twenty years and the sight seems very appealing. Will we even know each other in twenty years though?

He looks a little ridiculous though. He's wearing a cheesy, red plaid cowboy shirt and aviator sunglasses. It's a bit too much but fuck, I'm a bit too much right now too. I'm already in work mode. This has to go exactly right or we will be completely fucked. His pants grow tighter against his crotch with every minute that passes. He's probably just over flowing with a mix of emotions right now. I don't want to ask him what's going on in that head of his. Any wrong word could set him over the edge and this could all fall to shit.

"Ready?" I say.

He nods and rubs his mustache with his fingers. Christ, don't smear the goddamn make up you dumb shit. I give him a quick inspection before we leave. Fuck, I can check him over a thousand times and it still wouldn't be enough. For once in my life, let it be a good fucking surprise Trevor. Let me be in shock at how smoothly things went. I expect the drive to Manfield's to be silent but, it goes unexpectedly. He seems actually fucking chill. I'm not sure how he can act this way. I had to take a hit of coke to build up the balls to do this. I promised him this but, fuck, now that it's going down its nerve wracking. I hate Manfield. I haven't even met him and I hate him for what he did to Trevor.

"It'll be nice to be back in the States," Trevor says.

Shit, Trev, how do you do that? Just when I start to feel like my resolve is slipping you bring me right back.

"I have missed it," I admit. "It gets too fucking cold up here."

He laughs. Shit, we're about to go murder someone and it's like we're just running to the grocery store to pick up some fucking milk.

"So, that's why you've been glued to my dick," Trevor says. "You're just trying to stay warm!"

I'd be glued to his dick no matter what the weather. He should know that by now.

"The first thing I'm gonna do when we get home is buy a big nasty burger," I declare. "One of those ones that is just fucking dripping in grease."

"You really feel like that's home?" He asks.

It's a question I wasn't expecting, especially not from him.

"It's the closest thing I have to home," I explain.

The neighborhood we're cruising through seems a lot more ritzy than I had fucking expected. Kids playing in the street, dad mowing the fucking lawn, perfectly fucking maintained houses. Kenneth Manfield has himself quite the nice setup. Well, time to kiss this life good bye.

"I don't think home is a place," Trevor says.

Look at him getting all fucking profound on me.

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"I've lived all over the fucking place. I've never had a roof over my head for very long. The place you lay your head down at night, the place you grow up in- it doesn't matter it all fucking changes. It's never exactly the way you remember it being." Trevor explains.

I don't see where he's going. This seems like the weirdest fucking time to bring up a philosophical discussion but, he always finds the weirdest moments to open up. I guess this is a big moment for him though. I can't imagine how he feels.

"Home is the one fucking thing in the world that will always make you feel safe. It's not always fucking perfect but at the end of the day you know everything's going to be alright. Nothing is ever going to shake that feeling no matter what shit goes down," Trevor explains.

"It doesn't sound like you're talking about a place," I say.

He stops the car in the middle of the street. The tires squeal because he does it so harshly. I expect him to start screaming but that's not what happens. I can hear the rumble of the engine as it idles. He leans over and grabs me by the shoulders. He's rough but, I don't see anger in his gaze. He pulls me so close that the tips of our noses brush against each other's.

"You," He begins.

His voice is shaking and it sounds so weak.

"You—after all of this shit you're doing for me," Trevor says. "You're my fucking home. I know you would lay down in front of a train for me, you would fucking throw yourself in front of a bullet for me. I want you to know I'm your fucking home too. You don't go down alone. You never fucking go down alone. I won't let that happen. Do you fucking hear me? You're my home and you don't fucking go down without me."

I want to cry. Is he really saying this to me? It's some twisted pledge coming from the bottom of his heart and I know what it means. He speaks the truth too. I would never in a million years let any harm come to him. I would rather die. I don't even fucking care if that means he's the one killing me. I brush my fingers along the side of his face and he nuzzles into my touch.

"I don't know what to say, baby," I say. "You're my life. All I want is to make you feel good. I don't care what happens to me."

He presses his forehead against mine. I hate myself for the flicker of anxiety that brings me.

"I know," Trevor says.

It's like reality sets in and he snaps back to the task at hand. I let the precious moment slip through my fingers. We have bigger fish to fry. His commitment to me is touching but it will be a short lived promise if we fuck all of this up. We pull up to Manfield's house. It makes me sick that some one that fucking ruthless lives in such a pretty place. This whole fucking neighborhood makes me sick. They have a monster in their midst and they have no clue. I won't have much time. We should've scoped this place out better but, I was nervous that Trevor wouldn't be able to contain himself.

I brush my fingers along his broad shoulder. It starts now. This pretty yellow house is going to turn into the deepest circle of Hell soon.

"Stick to the plan," I remind him.

He nods. Play it cool, baby, or this will all be over a lot sooner than we'd like. I get out of the car and walk up the neatly manicured path. I can feel my feet slipping in these shitty heels. I'm not the type to pull off heels very well. The garden is populated by cheesy, badly painted ceramic gnomes. When I was a punk kid I used to drive around neighborhoods and trash yards like this. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that Manfield lives like this. He maintains his yard and house like a good neighbor. I remember my house used to look nice on the outside too. I know how easy it is for monsters to hide behind pretty facades.

I press on the doorbell and feel a wave of cold calculation take hold of me. Perfect, absolutely fucking perfect. At least the bitch won't make an appearance to ruin things. The door opens and a guy who is about twenty years too young to be Manfield stands before me. It may not be what I was expecting but I keep my cool. There's a million reasons for this kid to be here.

"Hello there young man," I say in an awful southern accent. "Is your father home?"

He looks confused. Fuck, this is a bad sign. Every second I waste trying to figure out who the fuck is standing in front of me is another second that Trevor could lose it and go on a rampage.

"My dad's been dead for about ten years now," he says.

This still doesn't answer my question but it only raises my suspicions more.

"This is the residence of Mr. Kenneth Manfield, yes?" I ask. "I have some information about reverse mortgages for him to look over."

The boy seems very amused. This has happened to him a million times. I start to get a feeling deep in my gut but I choose to ignore it. I won't admit defeat yet.

"I'm Kenneth junior," The boy explains. "Don't worry, this happens all the time. Just take me off your list would you?"

I don't get a chance to ask anything else. Trevor has run out of patience. Shit has just gotten really fucking messy. I hear the car door slam and I spin around. He storms up the walkway.

"What the fuck is going on!?" Trevor demands.

A look of pure terror comes over Kenneth Jr. and I know all my plans have just become meaningless. Trevor runs up to the door and grabs Kenneth Jr. by the neck and pushes him inside. Don't fucking kill him. Please, don't fucking kill him. Trevor pulls his pistol out from the belt of his pants and waves it around in Kenneth Jr.'s face. Fuck, fuck fuck!

"Who the fuck are you!?" Trevor spits.

He presses the barrel of the gun to the poor man's temple.

"Chill out!" I snap. "You need to chill the fuck out, right fucking now!"

My words hold no power over him. Trevor pushes Kenneth Jr. back into the house.

"Get the fuck in here!" Trevor orders. "Everybody fucking inside now!"

Maybe I can defuse this, just maybe. Fuck though, I'm excited. I can feel that erotic elation racing up my spine. I've become addicted to the chaos he brings. Trevor slams the door as I walk in and keeps the gun pointed right at Kenneth Jr. The kid's bottom lip trembles and he's shaking with panic. I have to keep my excitement at bay. If I don't, we end up strapped into a fucking electric chair. Trevor commands Junior to sit down and he obeys. I can see a damp spot spread across the crotch of his pants. This kid is scared fucking shitless. He will willingly answer Trevor's queries but he won't be able to tame the beast his answers will unleash.

"Listen here, you little shit," Trevor hisses. "Kenneth fucking Manfield. Where is he?"

I watch Junior's eyes flicker from Trevor to me. He seems dejected but not shocked. This kid knows how shitty his father was. He just didn't expect to be paying for it like this.

"M-my dad?" Junior asks.

Trevor's nostrils flare and his hand shakes as he clutches the gun.

"I don't fucking know," Trevor says. "Do I look fucking psychic to you? The phonebook says Kenneth Manfield lives here! So, where the fuck is he? If you don't fucking give me an answer, shit is going to get messy. Really fucking messy!"

I hate myself for the excitement I feel over the prospect of having a mess to clean up. Junior points to a set of family photos hanging on the wall behind me. I pull one off the wall, it has an older man in it with a very young looking Junior standing in front of a log cabin. Son of bitch, it's a sight that makes me feel sick. I hold it up to Trevor.

"HIM!" Trevor seethes. "This fucking asshole right here! Where the fuck is he!?"

I want to answer for him. I want to show him the urn I've spotted above the fireplace. All of his hopes for vengeance are literally lying in fucking ashes.

"He's dead," Junior explains. "He died of cancer—look I don't wanna die okay—"

Trevor screams and unloads the entire clip into Junior's skull. The blood sprays onto the flowery wallpaper and coats the wall in a thick sticky layer. Chunks of his brain and teeth splatter onto my face and I feel nothing. Trevor keeps pulling on the trigger and I can barely hear the clicks as he cries out in rage.

"Wrong fucking answer," Trevor seethes.

His massive shoulders rise and fall as he gasps for breath. His face is red, nostrils flared, and brow twitching wildly from all the fury. I know him too well to know its just rage though. Something darker has started to sprout up from this revelation. He tosses the gun at the limp body of Junior.

"I think that's him," I say pointing to the urn.

My stomach churns when I hear my voice. Fuck I sound so empty, so fucking numb. I have a mess to clean up but it's more than just this corpse. I will never be able to fulfill my promise to Trevor. He has no one to blame and I'm not sure what he'll do. I watch him examine the small golden canister in his hands. He shakes as he runs his thumb along the inscription. I can hear the sound of his teeth grinding as his gaze remains fixated on the object in his hand.

The epitome of evil lies in dust, wrapped up in cold cheap metal within his grasp. All his delusions for retribution and a glorious life of fulfillment has slipped through his calloused fingers. First he lost Ryan, that was before I even knew he existed. Then, he lost flying, the only thing in this world that made him feel human. Now he's lost the chance to set the greatest wrong in his life right. I have no power to fix this. I have no magical plan to make this turn out the way he wants it too. I am not the hand of god. I am the workings of something far more sinister than that. Even I couldn't have poisoned him as badly as this has.

He drops the urn and it lands on the green shag carpet with a dull thud. I rest my hand on his shoulder. I expect him to slap me or strangle me but he just stands there. He's breathing so hard that he lets out grunts with every breath. I'm finding myself in shock when he reaches up and wraps his hand around mine.

"I'm sorry," I say. "We couldn't have done anything. The kid said he's been dead for years."

I feel like it's still my fault. He has nothing to say. Fuck it all. I'm waiting for him to blame me, to punch me, to kill me. Something, anything. In the back of my mind the bitch starts to make an appearance. Who knows if Junior was home alone or not? The cops could be on their way and we're in the middle of a fucking blood bath. As I survey Junior's corpse, I feel the cold instinct kicking in.

"Trev," I coo. "We need to burn this place to the ground and get the fuck out of here."

He tilts his head and I'm not sure if he's acknowledging my presence or agreeing.

"I want the fucking world to burn," Trevor hisses. "I needed this. I fucking needed it! This is the biggest pile of bullshit I have ever had to fucking spoon in to my goddamn mouth!"

He whirls around and I expect him to hit me. I'm ready for him. I'm ready for the agony of his fist slamming into my mouth. I want it. I should've known this was a promise I couldn't keep. He doesn't swing at me though. His gaze seems far off and I feel like I might as well not even be here.

"I'm sick of disappointment after fucking disappointment, Momma," Trevor says. "The world fucking stole this from me, I was meant to put that fucker in the grave not fucking cancer or whatever fucking bullshit did. He deserved to die a painful fucking death! There is no such fucking thing as justice. So fuck everything! Fuck Canada! Fuck Manfield! Fuck you! Fuck me! Fuck Ryan! I want everything to be goddamn ashes because that's all this fucking shithole of a world is to me!"

He is infectious. I can feel his rage pouring in to me and I can feel that flickering desire rising within me. I want to watch this house burn down. I want to fuck in front of the towering orange flames and laugh at the horrified neighbors. Anything to smother out this horrible feeling of failure that has started to consume me. I trace my thumb across his thick lips and smile warmly.

"Then lets burn the fucking world down, baby," I say.

He doesn't smile. Why would he? I failed to keep my promise. I know it's pathetic. I know our relationship is riddled with broken promises but this one I had intended to keep. I hate myself. I lose myself in the thrill of setting the fires. I relish the sound of his laughter as we barrel down the highway. He burns down places along the way for reasons I can't even imagine. We leave a trail of ashes as we make our way back to the border. The days blur together with the smell of burning drywall and acrid smoke. We go through vehicles like a box of tissues, tossing them aside like a used condom. Drugs course through our veins and the screams of scared masses echo through our ears. It's not like before though.

When I beat the living shit out of those girls, when we blew up the semi, when we stole that fucking plane, it was different. I feel numb. I have felt numb since we drove away from Junior's house as it went up in smoke. This rampage is nothing to be thrilled about. It's not a beautiful display of violence for us to revel in. Trevor wants the rest of the fucking world to finally understand. I'm not sure if I even get it but I feel like I can finely get a taste of it. He's just a pile of smoldering rubble. Trevor Philips is a twisted mass of blackened wood and ashes walking around in a sack of human flesh. This is how I will remember Canada. I'll remember the red flames reaching up to kiss the grey skies. This is how I'll remember us. Rising up to try and reach heaven but only ending in a pile of blazing destruction.


	14. Are what keeps me satisfied

I'm not sure what it is about being back in the States but, Trevor and I have decided to get a little fucking domestic. It was like a switch got flipped in his head once we crossed the border. We still haven't exactly found the place to put down roots though. Trevor just declared we were going to find ourselves a house and that was that. He's too young to be tired of our lifestyle yet but, I wasn't going to protest. I've felt completely drained since Canada. I hate to fucking admit it but, I have a hard time keeping up with his ass sometimes. I decided to try and clean myself up now that we're, well, home. Mostly because all the fucking drugs I've been doing is draining whatever precious funds we still have left.

It's driving me fucking crazy too. We've holed up in a shitty motel. After staying in so many cesspools they all start to look the same. The same fucking scratchy stained sheets on a clapped out mattress with the same peeling wallpaper and chipped tile. The only difference this time is I have no substance coursing through my veins. I feel like a cockroach that's been stomped on but didn't quite fucking kick the bucket yet. I keep scratching at my skin and no matter how hard I concentrate, I can't stop fucking shaking. I'm not dumb, I know I'm going through withdrawal.

Trevor's suffering too. If I didn't know better though I would never have guessed it. He's sweating like a pig and looking a bit pale but other than that he's the same old beautiful Trevor Philips. By the way his face is twitching in the familiar places; I can tell he's agitated. I've been pushing this detox and he wasn't exactly excited about the idea. We're broke, we're starving and jonesing for a fix of god knows what. Honestly, we're the last people who should be together in a situation like this. I don't want to bring it up but we're going to have pull a job soon or we'll be on the streets. I know though as soon as we get some cash my attempt to get us on the straight and narrow will fail. It's hard to stick to my guns too. Maybe if he was in the mood to fuck I could hold out but he won't even give me that much.

I can't lay on the bed with him and I certainly can't fucking focus on the shitty show that's barely coming in on this TV. I've been scratching at my skin so much that I barely have a patch of flesh that isn't covered in raw, red scabs. Trevor hasn't cared about that since the Manfield disaster. I almost miss it. Something in him died that day and I haven't been able to resurrect him. I hate myself for it. How much more destruction will I have to see before he barely resembles the Airman I fell in love with? I don't want to be here. I don't want to sit here, alone, with my thoughts and the mad hunger for chemicals.

"You hungry?" I ask. "Let's get the fuck out of here, babe."

Trevor's brown eyes barely flicker over to me. If I wasn't fixing my gaze on his face I wouldn't have even noticed the gesture.

"We can't," Trevor says.

He doesn't even look at me as he speaks. I just don't understand how he can handle this withdrawal shit better than I can. He fucks with just as much shit as I have, he should be in the same fucking boat.

"Why not?" I ask. "We got enough cash for that, don't we?"

I just want to keep my body moving. Even if I barf up whatever crap we get our hands on.

"We don't have any more cash," Trevor says.

He must be delusional because I know we have something left. I'm twitching like the crack head I am and he's sitting here like he's lounging on a fucking beach in San Andreas. My eyes fall over every curve of muscle on his body and I take in every glistening bead of sweat. Aside from his face, not a single muscle is twitching. He's just irritated. Jesus fucking Christ. I feel like a fucking fool. He didn't just buy me coffee this morning. No fucking way. I could kill him.

"Where's the shit?" I demand. "Don't fucking lie to me I know you have some."

The gaze he flashes me is cold and unforgiving.

"I don't know what the fuck you're on about," Trevor says.

He sounds so fucking cool and collected. Bullshit, I'm not that sick to fucking swallow this. I'm consumed with the need to get a taste of whatever he's been hiding from me. Fuck the money, fuck putting food in my belly. The very notion of him having some shit makes me salivate.

"Don't fucking lie to me, kid," I snap. "You were fucking pretending to be so fucking sweet this morning by going out and getting me fucking coffee and donuts. I'm not stupid. You should be a fucking mess right now. You've had a taste, haven't you?"

Trevor's face starts to contort in a way that's gotten far too familiar. Go ahead, get angry you little shit. I'm just as fucking angry and ready for a fight.

"Just shut the fuck up," Trevor says and waves me away with his hand.

"No," I spit. "Fucking tell me where the shit is!"

I jump on him and he lets out a grunt. I claw over his pockets like a cat goes after a cricket. All that matters is finding that precious treasure that he's got stowed away somewhere.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Trevor snaps.

He pushes me onto the floor. I don't even hesitate. As he stands over me, I punch him in the fucking balls. His face turns the darkest shade of red it ever has and he barely lets out a sound as he curls up in agony. Yeah, fuck you, Trev! I relish the sight of his misery. I want him to feel just the same way I do.

"You cunt!" He gasps.

I can barely hear him. My body is screaming for me to find his shit. I tear apart the motel room. I rip open every drawer and tear through every nook and cranny. As I'm pawing through his beat up leather jacket, I feel the impact of his body slamming into me. He literally knocks the fucking wind out of me. He pushes me up against the wall and I feel his fist slam in to my face. My nose makes a sickening sound as the bones crack beneath his knuckles. I watch my blood splatter across the jagged lines of his face.

"You want to keep fucking looking, huh?" Trevor teases. "Go ahead and fucking try because it's gone. Yeah, you're right. I fucking bought some speed and no I didn't fucking share it, you greedy fucking cunt."

I just spit in his face. He holds up his fist to hit me again and I flinch. We've beaten the living shit out each other dozens of times by now. I don't know what made this instance so different but he recoils. I'm too absorbed in my own rage to care.

"Fuck you, Trev," I spit. "After all the shit we've been through? You fucking hold out on me. What a dick fucking move."

I try to wipe the blood away that's streaming out of my nose and it's absolutely fucking useless.

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it now?" Trevor says. "I'm not a fucking magician, I can't fucking magic up some speed for you!"

I'm so full of rage I'd be willing to fucking carve that shit out of his very veins. He looks exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes make him look ten years older than he really is. Tiny droplets of my blood are still dripping down his face.

"Then I guess you better fucking figure that shit out because I'm pretty fucking pissed right now," I say. "Get your fucking sorry ass out there and don't fucking come back until you have a fucking ounce in your hand for me!"

"Why don't you just go suck a few dicks to get your own? It's not my job to get you a fuckin—"

I take wild, furious swings at him. None of them actually fucking land on him. I can't fight for shit even if I wanted to. He just grabs me by the wrists and slams me back onto the bed.

"Don't fucking call me a whore!" I scream as I wriggle around, trying to escape from him. "You selfish sack of shit! It's your fucking fault I need that shit! You dumb fuck!"

He presses down on me; the added weight makes it harder for me to squirm. He's gotten that cold look on his face again. It's that quiet rage that always brings out the ugliest parts of him.

"Stop," Trevor orders.

I keep struggling. I scream, curse and thrash. He just keeps pressing down on me with even more weight until I can't move a muscle. I become too exhausted to fight anymore. I just want a fucking fix so goddamn badly. I feel my eyes start to well up with tears. I've never wanted anything as badly as I wanted that fucking fix. That son of a bitch stole it from me. I can hear his raspy breaths in my ear as he hovers over me.

"How is this my fault?" He asks.

What the fuck? The question barely registers in my mind. I struggle to push past my raging hunger in order to comprehend what he's asking. Trevor always latches on to the smallest of comments that I let slip when I'm furious. He always zeroes in on the last thing I fucking expect. I don't get to have the clarity of a high like he has right now. I can't analyze his every thought. I can barely think about anything aside from the fix I so desperately need.

"I wouldn't use if I wasn't with you," I say.

I'm not lying but, I'm well aware that I would probably use anyway. I just never would've started if he hadn't been around.

"Bullshit," Trevor snaps. "Don't fucking manipulate me."

I'm not. At least not this fucking time.

"You know why I use?" I snap. "I use because you can't fucking stand to watch me deal with my bullshit. And as long as I'm using that bitch in my head is silent as the fucking grave and you're happy as a clam. That's the sappy fucking mushy bullshit truth of it all, Trevor."

"I may have got you started but that's not what kept bringing you fucking back," Trevor says.

I growl like a fucking dog. Jesus, he brings out the animal in me.

"Knock it off," Trevor says. "Are you done? Because your face is pretty fucked."

He eases himself off of me. I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy this. The vicious fights always dissolving into a tender talk. I know it's completely fucked up. I know this is unhealthy and wrong but I just can't get enough of it. I watch the sway of his hips as he creeps into the bathroom. I try to fixate on the concept of him fucking the shit out of me when he gets back. He comes back from the bath room with a towel dripping with water. Hearing the fat drops plop onto the shitty carpet drives the bitch wild. I start scratching without even thinking about it.

Trevor sits next to me and pulls my hand gingerly away from my mangled arm. When he starts to wipe the blood away from my face, I groan in pain. I welcome the sharp sting that his touch brings. The throbbing pain growing in my nose is pushing the bitch's voice out of my head. He did this to me and I've already forgiven him for it. Jesus Christ, we're so fucked. I don't see any remorse in his eyes. I never do but, I imagine he never sees any regret from me either. I know it's broken. It's just another scar that he'll leave behind when he's finally gone.

I'm not sure if it's the sudden shift from violence to tenderness or the left over buzz from our confrontation but, I want him. If I can't get high I can at least get a fix from his body. I reach for his crotch as he wipes away the last of my blood from my face. Trevor's eyes flicker up to meet my gaze as I grope at his groin.

"Already?" He asks. "You're a thirsty bitch, Momma."

I say nothing. I've already latched on to this new release. The pain from my broken nose has silenced the bitch but I need something more to satisfy this gnawing need my body has. He may act like he's not interested but I know a toothless, old, crack whore could get him going given the proper circumstances. He's not picky. That crooked smile breaks across Trevor's face as I can feel his cock hardening beneath my touch. I run my other hand along his chest, the solid feeling of his flesh beneath my finger tips sends an electric current through my body.

"You hated me five minutes ago," Trevor says.

"I still do a little bit," I say.

His eyes light up as he lets out a low snicker. I've hated him many a time but, I love how he makes me feel. I'm addicted to him. It's messy and quick but it leaves me exhausted enough to pass out when it's over. I dream about burning to death. It's some fucking disturbing shit but I'm going through withdrawal and I'm crazy as shit so it doesn't bother me. I wake up lathered in sweat and with my heart racing. My body is even more desperate for a fix now than it was before. I reach across the bed expecting to find Trevor but he's gone. My brain just can't function properly anymore. I immediately assume he's abandoned me. I panic and stumble around the motel room pulling on whatever pieces of clothing I can find. I fucked it all up, this was the final straw. He leaves me with a broken nose to make up for all the shit in his life that I've broken.

I catch sight of a stained napkin lying on the bedside table. It's got something scrawled on it. I feel my heart sink a little but when my eyes flicker across the hastily scrawled words my heart melts. Why do I allow myself to lose faith in him so easily? It says he can't have me hating him, so he's getting me a fix. The rest of the world would find this disgusting but, it's a gesture that makes me feel like that naïve woman at the bar again. The bitch starts to whisper in the back of my mind. The pain in my nose isn't enough anymore. At least I have a mess to clean up this time.

I must've straightened up the motel room fourteen times before I finally give up and start scratching again. I sit down on the carpet with my back pressed against the bed. I pick at the stray fibers in the carpet to try and make the surface as even and perfect as I can. I imagine him coming back with the shit. We smoke up and fuck and he tells me I'm beautiful and I get lost in those brown eyes. I don't even care that we failed to get clean. Thinking about him makes me feel an unshakable hunger for Trevor all over again. It occurs to me I've never been in a relationship as long as this one. Granted, I haven't been in one as completely fucked up as this one either.

I have a nice pile going of the stray fibers. I make my way across the entire floor. It must take hours but my sense of time is absolutely fucked. I go from pure elation back to crippling depression. I want to spend the rest of my life with this crazy punk. He's going to kill me. He'll either hit me a few too many times or I'll do too much speed. It's very likely I will not spend the rest of my life with him but I still sit here and fantasize about us being a proper couple and raising half a dozen little shits. I know it's an impossibility that I will never obtain. We're far too fucked up to come even close to being like that. It makes me hate myself.

Its dark outside by the time I finish with the carpet. I take breaks to dry heave into the toilet. I have nothing in my stomach left to retch up anymore. It seems like its been a bit too long for him just to pick up some shit but that thought is pushed to the back of my mind. All I can think about is wrapping my lips around his cock and smoking up. I don't start to worry even when two days go by and I'm soaking the sheets of the bed with my sweat. I don't worry even when I'm curled up on the floor rocking back and forth and babbling like a psychopath in an asylum. I don't worry even when the maids pound on the door to the room and curse at me in Spanish. I don't even worry when I hear that crisp, polite knock on the door. A supernatural force compels me to rise to my feet and open the door.

A scrawny balding man, with wire rimmed glasses and an ill fitting suit stands in front of me. I can barely understand the words coming out of his mouth as he speaks. He asks for me by name and it feels strange to hear someone say it in such a formal tone. I'm a fucking mess. My nose is fucking purple and three times the size it should be. I haven't eaten or bathed. I can smell my own piss on my skin yet this suit is talking to me as if I'm a fucking pageant queen.

"I'm Mr. Philips' lawyer; you can call me Desmond Barkov." He explains.

I have to lean on the door frame to keep myself standing up. The light outside is white and feels like its a million fucking degrees. My head screams when I look outside. I have to keep my gaze pinned to the ground in order to keep my shit together.

"Lawyer?" I ask. "What are you talking about?"

I can hear the rustle of the cheap fabric of his pants as he shuffles uncomfortably.

"Mr. Philips was arrested a few days ago. I'm sorry, do you mind if I come in?" Barkov goes on. "We should really discuss this in private."

Arrested? Holy shit. I can barely process the information. I step back and let him step in the doorway. The words just keep running through my head. Trevor's in jail? I feel my confusion slowly descending into a sinking sense of dread. Barkov seems very shocked by the state of the motel. After seeing my sorry ass standing in the door he probably expected this place to be a pit. He doesn't realize that keeping this place spotless is the only thing keeping me sane.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Philips informed me that he had no way of getting in touch with you," Barkov says. "Let me explain, I'm from the public defenders, I've been assigned as Mr. Philips' councilor since he can't afford one on his own."

Jesus, this shit is really fucking happening. I sit down on the mattress and the bed sinks beneath me. Despite the cleanliness of the room, Barkov doesn't seem interested in touching any of the furniture. He just stands in the middle of the room looking rigid and awkward as fuck.

"Is he okay?" I ask. "Like what happened? I've been stuck here for days and don't have the slightest fucking clue what happened."

He flinches when I curse. Jesus, shouldn't a public defender be used to sick fucks like me?

"He's fine," Barkov stammers. "I meant to get in touch with you earlier but Mr. Philips couldn't remember the address of your um…home."

I rub my hands along the sweat coated scabs on my arms. This news has started to drive the bitch's voice out of my head. I'm going into work mode again. Shit has hit the fan and it's time to clean up a mess but this is a disaster I can do nothing to fix.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Mr. Philips was attempting to hold up a gas station," Barkov explains. "It did not work out well for him. I'm afraid his case isn't looking very good. He was very…forceful with the police. He claims he was just trying to support his family."

I picture Trevor in my head, flipping over tables and screaming obscenities at a room full of cops trying to restrain him. Jesus, even in the middle of fucking withdrawal I can tell how fucked we are.

"Shit," I say. "How bad is it?"

By the stern frown on his hollow face, I can tell the answer isn't what I want to hear.

"Well, the one thing he has going for him is his gun wasn't loaded." Barkov explains. "I'll be able to get this reduced from an armed robbery charge to something less severe."

He's going to prison. The reality of the situation leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. He was out robbing that gas station to buy me drugs. This is all my fucking fault. There's no time for tears now. Those will come later when I watch him hauled off in handcuffs.

"What can I do?" I say. "Can't he cut a deal with them? I've done bad shit. He can squeal on me. I'll do it if it reduces his sentence."

Barkov just shakes his head.

"Mr. Philips informed me that you would say this." Barkov says. "That will be a very bad move. First of all, you'll be admitting to the judge that this isn't a one time thing which would only make things worse for you two. Trust me, if we play up the desperate man trying to feed his family angle I can keep his sentence to fourteen months."

"That doesn't seem right," I say.

Barkov lets out a sigh and rubs his temples. I dig my nails into my skin and bite down on my bottom lip to stifle the gasp of pain.

"Yes, worst case scenario he could end up with five years," Bakrov explains. "I need you to cooperate in order to avoid that."

I rip open the new wound even more and I can feel the slick blood sticking to my fingertips.

"I want to see him," I say. "I want to hear from his fucking mouth that he wants me to keep quiet."

"I assumed as much," Barkov says.

I get dressed into something more presentable. As I stand in front of the mirror, caking on the makeup, I try to make peace with this. I can't though. This is my fucking fault. Trevor could spend the next five years of his life in prison because of me. The messy fuck we shared after our last fight could be the last time we get to touch each other for a long time. Barkov tries to make small talk with me in the car. I barely register the words coming from his mouth. I'm trying to get my shit together before we get to the jail. I already look like the fucking epitome of a battered wife, I can't fucking look like a twitchy drug addict too. I'm already stepping into this role that Barkov has for me. Only for you, baby.

I fit in with everyone at the jail. For once in my fucking life I don't feel out of place. Barkov is jumping around like a white school girl in the hood. I look over the faces of the other women waiting to see their man. So, this is who I am now? Do they have to carry the same burden I do? Was it their fault that their man was behind bars too? It takes every ounce of strength I have not to start gouging at my arms again. I want to look beautiful for him. The guards give me some spiel and it barely registers in my mind. They herd me into a room that I haven't seen since I was a rebellious kid. There's that cursed pain of glass with god knows what smeared on it. The little cubicles each have a rusty stool and a filthy phone receiver in them. I walk down to the end. My shoes squeak as I move across the dirty tile.

When I see Trevor, I want to feel something. I want to cry and I want scream but I can't shake myself out of clean up mode. My instincts tell me I don't want to upset him. I need to be strong for him. He looks awful. He hasn't been able to shave and the orange jumpsuit he has on is clearly too big. It brings out the red scars on his face and makes his skin look sickly. I sit down on the stool, the warmth left in the seat from the last occupant makes my skin crawl. I don't smile. I can't. He's too smart to be reassured by an insipid gesture like that. What I don't understand is why he's smiling. He's grinning like that fucking young Airman that picked me up in the bar a few years ago. What bothers me the most is it's enough to make me feel a little more human. I pick up the receiver and watch him hold his to his ear.

"You look beautiful," He says.

I watch him hold his fingers up to the glass and trace his finger tips along the surface. I reach up and place my hands where his are. I let myself feel the tiniest flicker of emotion in that moment. Just briefly enough to accept his gesture of reassurance.

"Don't lie," I tease.

He cracks that crooked grin and I can't help but feel a smile flicker across my face.

"You talked to my lawyer?" Trevor asks.

He knows I want to get right to the point. Fuck, this little shit knows me too well.

"Yes," I say. "But I needed to hear it from you."

I hate this reading between the lines shit but with these guards standing two feet away from us it's the only thing we can do. I know they're smart enough to be able to see past our bullshit but, you can't use instincts as evidence in court.

"I know you have my back, Momma," Trevor says. "Promise you'll visit me?"

That's it. He's going down for this. He's going down for the errand he was running to make me happy. I got the most precious thing in my life thrown in prison. I take a deep breath. I can barely look him in the eye but I won't tear my gaze away from him. There's so much I want to say but I can't do it here. We can't do it here.

"Never again," I say. "I stick with you until the fucking end of time."

I mean it. I will never let him pull a job by himself again. We're both fuck ups, me more so than him, and if he's going to get screwed, I get screwed too. I hate myself for being thrust into this position. I will play the games Barkov needs me to play but only because Trevor is okay with it.

"And that's why I love you, Momma," Trevor says. "Promise me you won't beat yourself up over this."

"I promise," I lie.

He leans in close to the glass and I watch his breath fog it ever so slightly.

"I just wish our last time would've been a bit better," Trevor teases.

I just shake my head and smile.

"Me too, Trev," I say. "I guess in the future we'll just have to make every fuck count."

We shoot the shit for a few more minutes and then the guards urge us to depart. Barkov is relieved when I inform him that I'm his willing slave. I don't shed a tear throughout the trial unless prompted by Barkov. Even as the judge reads off Trevor's sentence I remain cool. Eighteen months and Barkov is pleased with the results. I don't feel my heart breaking, even as I watch them haul off Trevor for the last time. I don't cry until I'm standing at the bus stop with our suitcase of belongings. Our whole life is in this suitcase. I have no money, I don't have a job, I don't have a car, and I don't have my man. I unzip the small pouch and pull out the plastic bag that I have kept tucked close to me always. I pull out his Air Force badges and run my fingers along the worn out thread work. My sweet Airman is gone and it's my fault. I cry like a baby as strangers hurry by and whisper under their breaths.

I am the worst piece of scum that god has ever fabricated for the world. I am the ultimate abomination. I have taken a young man's life and turned it into a waste. All the guilt and sorrow flows out of me as I clutch on to the patches as if they're Trevor himself. I hold them to my chest and weep. I sob because I have destroyed him. I mourn the lives I have destroyed because of my undying love for him. I cry out to the world because I don't understand why someone so perfect could love a monster like me. I bawl because all I have left are the these stupid patches and the scars he's left on my body.


	15. So maybe I'm a masochist

It's been over a decade since I lived in the projects. Trevor made me promise that I wouldn't pull any jobs while he was in the joint. Like I fucking could anyway. Let's face it; I'm terrible at this shit. I don't have the balls to do what he does. I can just clean up a mess and I can barely do that well. No one will hire me. It's far too apparent just by looking at me that I'm a fucking drug addict. You can barely call this shit hole I live in now an apartment. The shower barely works, the shitter is always clogged and the kitchen is practically a closet. I sleep on the floor because I don't have a bed. I don't know how much longer I can get away without paying rent. I haven't gotten any notices yet but I know its coming. I steal shit from people's garages and pawn it. Without that income I'd be dead. I don't spend it on what I should though.

I can't go very long without smoking up. Every moment I spend sober is a moment spent in torment. I think about Trevor behind those cold iron bars and I feel like killing myself. So, I get high as a fucking kite and pretend like everything is fucking perfect. I write Trevor everyday and he writes me too. I doubt my letters make any fucking sense anymore but I memorize every love note he sends me. I keep them tucked away with his Air Force badges. When I'm at my lowest I curl up in the corner and sniff the paper from his letters in a sad attempt to catch a whiff of his scent. I'm riding the bus to the prison and every motherfucker is staring at me like the crazy psychopath I am.

I used to be nervous to scratch in public but I give no fucks now. I can't afford makeup any more and I've burned through most of my personal stash. I know there's no point hiding it from Trevor. He's smarter than that. So I scratch at the thick scabs on my hand and watch the other people on the bus point and whisper at me. Fuck them, they don't know the pain I feel. They don't know what miserable fucking life I lead. There's something beautiful about today though. It's fucking visitation day. I live for this day. I count down until it comes and then feel consumed with self loathing when it's over.

The bitch whispers to me. It's my fault he's trapped in the cage. I'm a selfish fucking cunt who isn't worth jack shit. He deserves better than the likes of me. I tell her to shut up and everyone on the bus shits themselves when they hear my voice. I don't have enough money to pay the fair to get back home. I don't care though. I would walk a thousand miles through shit to see him. When the bus pulls up to the stop, I start to laugh. I draw more stares. Fuck them all. They don't know what love is. I stumble off of the bus and walk the rest of the way to the prison entrance. This place makes my apartment look like a fucking luxury resort. What the fuck does somebody expect to see when they visit a prison? It's not fucking candy land.

I flash a grin at the guard as she pats me down. It's the most action I'm going to get all fucking day. Aside from the self hatred, the lack of physical contact has been rather difficult to me. I'm a fucking meth head; I'm horny as fuck all the time. Trevor makes dirty calls to me sometimes at the payphone outside my complex. We usually schedule that shit in our letters. I try not to think about where he's making the fucking calls. I know they watch him every second of the day but I'm also well aware of the fact that he can find no fucks to give about shit like that. When I enter the visitation room, I feel like I should be behind bars too. These people are as trashy as me though. They huddle around the stainless steel tables and talk with their loved ones about pointless shit.

I take a seat at one of the tables and my eyes fall over the room. The walls are painted a faded sea foam shade of green and the tile floor must've been white at some point. It's clean, but it's old and sure as fucking hell isn't maintained properly. It stinks of fucking piss too. Everything fucking smells of shit and piss here. I fidget in my seat as I wait for him. I can't sit still anymore. My head is still buzzing from the crystal I smoked this morning but it'll be wearing off soon. I fuss with my hair as if it will make a fucking difference. I could come in here covered in shit and Trevor will still tell me I'm looking good. I've seen other women in here like me. They have the same scabs on their face and hungry look in their eyes. But there's plenty of proper women in here too.

When I watch the families with kids visiting, I wonder if my kids will be like this. Will they be fucking visiting their father in prison? Shit, will they be visiting their mother? They're too fucking young to care, at least the ones that are here. My heart swells when I see the guard escort Trevor over to our table. We get our brief hug and I can feel he's already got a semi. It's something that leaves me feeling very reassured about this whole fucking situation. At least he still wants to fuck me. He's already started to put on some muscle since he's been here. It's barely been a few months and he's already starting to look like a bonafide inmate who spends his days working out. He looks a hell of a lot better than I fucking do. I'm sure he had himself an absolutely fucking pleasant detox when he got here. I can still see the hunger in his eyes though. He wants to get high, he wants to hit things, he wants to fuck my cunt. Same old Trevor.

"Hey, baby," I say. "Have you been good?"

It's easier for me to make sure he's been behaving nicely than to see how he's doing. This place fucking sucks. I don't need to remind him of that by asking.

"Trying really hard," Trevor says. "How about you?"

Don't ask me that, Trevor. You don't want to know.

"Trying," I say, flashing him a grin.

That makes him laugh. That sound has become even more precious to me than it has in the past. I want to reach out and hold his hand but I know that will only lead to a harsh order from the guards. I feel so fucking turned on by his presence and the crystal flowing through my body only adds to that unpleasant desire.

"I've been making friends," Trevor says.

There's something off in the tone of his voice. I try to brush it off. These visits are awkward still and he doesn't act the way that he normally does around me.

"Yeah?" I say. "That's good right? I mean I know you can look out for yourself but, it's good to have somebody watching your back."

He scratches the back of his head and his eyes dart about the room.

"Yeah-well- and it gets pretty fucking lonely, you know?" Trevor says.

My heart sinks. I know what he's trying to tell me. I should feel angry but I just hate myself for it. This wouldn't be happening if it hadn't been for me. I fucking deserve this.

"It's okay, Trev," I say. "But as soon as you get out, it's just me okay?"

His shoulders relax and his expression softens. I fucking adore the fact that he felt compelled to tell me that he's giving it to some prison pussy but, at the same time I wish I didn't know. It only makes me feel guiltier. I should hate him. I should be so fucking pissed that I'd be ready to rip out the colon of that little fucker and staple it to his forehead. But I feel like I need to let him have this after all that I've done.

"I always think of you, Momma," Trevor assures me.

"That's sweet," I say.

Jesus, I used to be shocked when our little arrangement became even more twisted but not any fucking more.

"Have you found a job?" Trevor asks.

No. Trevor, I'm literally in the fucking shit now that you're in the slammer.

"Yes," I lie. "I've got us such a nice apartment too. You'll have a great place to come home to."

I want to gouge out my eyes when his face lights up. I can't tell him the truth though. I know by the time he gets out I'll have my shit together. I'll do it for him.

"That's good to hear," Trevor says. "I knew my fucking woman could take care of herself. You don't pussy foot around."

I want to kiss him. I want to take his cock in my mouth and let him skull fuck me until I can't think anymore. I want him to get back at me for being the disgusting lying sack of shit that I am.

"That's right, I'm a bitch who gets shit done," I say.

"I can—uh—still work at the family business after all this right?" He asks.

Fuck, I want our old life back too. I want to hop from town to town terrifying people and stealing their shit. I knew he wouldn't be able to let go of that life either.

"Of course," I say. "I wouldn't have it any other way but, we'll still find a nice place to settle down. That's the best idea you've ever had. I'm already making arrangements."

"You always have a plan," Trevor says.

I wish I really did, Trevor. I really fucking wish I did this time. How can I tell him I don't? How can I tell him it's a fucking disaster? No one will hire a psychotic drug addict with my kind of bullshit. I have time still. I have a whole fucking year left to make it seem like I have my shit together. I can use the crystal as fuel for my fire. I don't care if I have to break every fucking bone in my body to make things work.

"I love you, pumpkin," I say. "Life's going to be great when you get out, I fucking promise."

He reaches across the table and feeling his rough fingers brush against my knuckles practically makes me cum right there.

"I love you too, Momma," He says.

The guard snaps at us and Trevor growls as he retracts his hand. The time seems too short, as it always does, and when it comes time to leave, I hold back my tears. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry in front of him, not fucking once. At least not until he was back home. The hug is never long enough. Even when we try to linger the guard pulls us apart. He flashes that silver grin as he departs and it feels like my chest is going to burst open. I shuffle as I walk out. This is the part that I fucking hate the most. This is when the guilt is the worst.

I fucking lied to his face. Why the fuck didn't I have the balls to just tell it like it is? I'm a goddamn mess, Trevor. Things have gone down the drain and I don't know how I can clean it up. I don't know how to make it right before you get back out. As I walk down the highway to get home, I let the tears stream down my face. I blubber like a kid who dropped their ice cream on the sidewalk. I'm sick of all the fucking crying I've been doing. I just want to get home and smoke up and masturbate until I pass out. Every time headlights pass me by, I stick out my thumb and try to hitch a ride. No one is crazy enough to pick up a bitch like me who is sobbing on the side of the road.

I've been pretty fucking low before in my life. But this has to be the lowest I have ever fucking been. I hurt my man. I put him in that shit hole and I've been feeding him lies like the cunt I am. I hear the dull rumble of an engine coming so I stick out my thumb again. I gaze at the glossy black jeep as it starts to slow down. It comes to a stop in front of me and I watch the dark tinted window slide down. The man behind the wheel looks a little sleazy. He's got on a satin shirt and gaudy gold chain. His skin looks pretty greasy and he's got on a dark pair of sunglasses. The only reason he'd have those on at this time of day is because he's either high as fuck or an axe murderer.

"Need a ride?" He hisses.

When he speaks I can spot the gold tooth glistening from between his lips.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm just headed back into town."

He pushes open the passenger door for me and flashes a smile. He gives me a bad feeling in my gut but, I just want to go home and smoke up. I don't give a fuck if he's going to murder me. I'd deserve that shit anyway.

"Hop in," He says.

I climb into the jeep. It stinks of incense and he's playing some smooth jazz over the radio. The car is a little too clean for my tastes. It must be brand fucking new for it to look this pristine. He drives off down the road as I settle into the plush seat.

"Why are you crying, sweet heart?" He asks.

It's weird that he calls me that. He doesn't look that much fucking older than me. Shit, it's dark in this car but I can still see the lines on his face.

"You don't give two fucks about my problems," I say.

He laughs. It is the fakest fucking laugh I've ever heard.

"Maybe I do? You coming back from the prison?" He asks.

I watch him rub his thumbs along the leather surface of the steering wheel. He's groping that thing like it's his egg shaped dick. I don't like him but, I have no one to talk to. I have to lie to Trevor and I have no one else in this shitty world to talk to about my shit.

"Yeah, I'm visiting my boyfriend," I say. "I just really miss him."

He reaches over and pats me gently on the thigh. I almost slap his hand but he retreats before I really get a chance to react.

"You poor thing," He coos. "That must be very hard."

"It is," I say.

"Tell me about it, sweety," He presses.

I know I shouldn't say shit to him. Even though I'm high and depressed, I'm smart enough to know there's something up with him and I should just get out of the car. But I'm just so fucking desperate to get this shit off of my chest that I just let it go. It wouldn't be the dumbest thing I've ever done.

"I have no fucking money," I say. "I can't pay for my apartment, I can't find a fucking job, and I'm all by my fucking self."

He nods and I see a sick smile spread across his face. It's not like Trevor's smile. It's ugly and laced with intentions that I don't want to think about.

"I may be able to help you out," he says.

Oh, so this is what's going down?

"Really?" I ask. "How's that?"

He flicks his wrist and turns on his turn signal to go down another road. I'm familiar with this street. It's a really fucking ritzy neighborhood. Trevor and I could never hope to own a house like the ones here.

"I'm having a party tonight," he explains. "-a private event for some close friends. I'm afraid some of our entertainment for this evening had to cancel and I'm pretty desperate to find someone to fill in."

He doesn't need to finish but I say nothing. I know what he's about to ask. I hate myself for even considering this. I'm disgusting.

"How much?" I ask.

He lets out a quiet little cackle. The sound makes goose bumps erupt across my flesh. I would never fuck him in a million years. He reminds me of my shitbag father.

"I found your situation to be quite touching," He explains. "So, I'm thinking a thousand? But if you disappoint me, I'll have to take that out of your paycheck."

It's been a while since I've been around money like that. I could use that money to pay my rent and set the rest of it aside. I could buy a mountain of fucking crystal with that shit too. Even if I worked for a month flipping burgers I would never see that much money. This is the first chance I've had to actually get some cash that could make a difference in our shitty little lives.

"I'm in," I say.

I watch his gold tooth glint in the light as he grins. This is the most legit smile he's presented me with since I've stepped into this car.

"Wonderful," He hisses.

I have to close my eyes and think about Trevor. I block out the sounds of those fat, rich fucks pounding into my body by thinking of his homecoming. I imagine Trevor's face when he walks into our chic little apartment while they use my body like a blow up doll. I fantasize about the feel of Trevor's skin on mine as they grope my tits. I picture the perfect life we'll have when he gets out. I'll have flawless skin and a perfect body and we'll spend all day robbing liquor stores and smoking meth. With every violent thrust, I hold onto that image of his face even harder. When it's over, they give me my money and call me a cab. I count the bills over and over in the back of the cab as the stench of their sweat lingers on my skin.

When I get home, I stuff most of the money in the bag with Trevor's letters and smoke up. I cry in the shower as I watch the blood and semen swirl down the drain. He doesn't have to know. He'll never have to know. I deserved this. After everything I've put him through, I deserve this. I'm finally paying for all of the horrible things I've done to him. The bitch in my head whispers nasty things to me. I have to take a knife to my skin to shut her up.

I tell myself I deserve it for every trick I turn. My raging self hatred only grows with every sick fuck that I blow for cash. My arms are getting a whole new set of scars because of this. I watch my hoard of cash grow and the bills shrink. I want to kill myself every time I get a letter from Trevor. I want to cut my fucking throat every time I speak to him on the phone. I want to bash my skull in every time I see him and tell him more lies. I'm doing it all for you, baby. I will have that perfect life for you when you get out. I will clean up this fucking mess I made and when you come home it will all be fucking perfect. You'll never have to know what I did for you.

During my visits, I tell him all about my new wonderful job. I'm the world's greatest fucking department store clerk. The customers shit themselves to be served by me and I make buckets of money. It makes me sick how easily he swallows my bullshit. How completely he fucking trusts me without questions. I know my tall tales give him hope. The lies give me hope too. I'm actually starting to believe that I can make it though this rough patch in our twisted fucking lives. I know that the images I'm stuffing into his head are what occupies his dreams at night.

The only way I can sleep at night is by knowing that I'm serving the time too now. I count down to the end of his sentence because that's when I'll be done with this. My punishment will be done and we can start over. All those bastards get is my body. Only Trevor gets my soul. Only Trevor gets my devotion. But the only way I can get the bitch to shut up is when I take the blade to my skin. The only time I feel happy is when I'm high as fuck. I think about Dani up in Heaven and how much I'm hurting her. I think about all the people I've ever hurt. If I can make things right for Trevor, it'll make up for all the shit I've ever done. He's all that matters to me in this shitty fucking existence.

It's the worst year of my life. When it finally comes to an end, I still feel like the whole fucking world is resting on my shoulders. I buy some nice furniture for the apartment. I buy a pretty dress and get a haircut. I do my makeup like a proper fucking lady. None of that clown red lipstick like I put on for tricks. I glance down at my bare arms and see the neat line of scars that run across them. I know he's going to ask about them. I know he's going to be upset but no matter how much he pushes I'll never tell him the whole story. I took on this punishment for what I did. It's my burden to carry not his. I haven't fussed this much over my appearance since I was a teenage girl. I check myself one last time before I leave for the bus.

As I sit on the broken leather seats, I smooth out the folds of my dress again and again. The bitch whispers to me on the ride to the prison. It's just like every other bus ride I've taken to this god forsaken place, except this time Trevor gets to come home with me. But the bitch tells me it won't be perfect. All my work, all the pain and all the blood I shed will be meaningless. He'll be angry and it will be just the way it was before. I feel the urge to scratch but I just cling on to the light cotton fabric of my dress. No, it will be perfect. Everything has to be perfect. It's what Trevor deserves and I won't let the bitch take that away from me. It's all I have left.

The bus pulls up to that same stop. This is the last fucking time I'll ever have to get off here. Never again will I put my baby in a cage. I will die before I let this happen again. I'm practically skipping like a fucking school girl as I walk up to the entrance. The bitch just won't fucking stop whispering. I'm a useless, disgusting whore who couldn't get a real job. I'm a liar and a filthy slut. Trevor deserves so much more than me. I will never be perfect enough to be worthy of him. The sun is shining and the birds are singing like it's a fucking fairy tale and on the inside I'm a black twisted mass of evil and self destruction. I keep that plastic smile plastered on my painted face as I walk into the lobby. The receptionist actually fucking smiles at me for once too.

She wouldn't be smiling if she knew about the awful shit I did to make this moment happen. I fidget and it feels like my heart is pounding so hard that it's going to fly right out of my chest. I won't fuck this up. I won't fuck anything up ever again, Trevor. It's going to be just like I said it was. It wasn't all lies that I told you. It's going to be beautiful. When he walks out into the lobby with his box of belongings tucked under his arm, I feel so happy that I could cry. He stops in the doorway, it's almost like a whole new man stands before me. He has more tattoos now and he's built up a thicker layer of muscles. His hairline has receded a bit more and its more apparent now than ever that in a few years he won't have much left up top. I watch his eyes flicker over my body and that beautiful, wicked, silver grin spread across his face.

"Hey, baby," I say.

I'm taken aback by the way my voice waivers when I speak. I told myself not to cry but, I'm just so fucking overjoyed to finally have him back. The shit that I've done, Trevor, you would kill for this. He can never know. I expect him to say something back but, he just tosses his box to the floor. I watch his belongings flop all over the place and the receptionist jumps a bit. He seizes me by the waist and pulls me against his hard body. I wrap my arms around him as he pulls me in for a kiss. I finally let the tears roll down my face as I relish the sweet taste of his mouth. The very smell of him makes me feel high. His tongue slides in and out of my mouth and the faint layer of stubble on his chin makes the flesh of my face sting as it rubs against it.

When he reaches up my skirt the receptionist kicks us out. He's back. My Airman is finally back. I can't wipe the grin off of my face and neither can he. We hold hands like teenagers as we walk to the bus stop. I can't tear my eyes off of him. I can barely believe he's here. He's fucking here and I never have to spread my legs for cash again.

"You look absolutely fucking gorgeous," Trevor says.

I blush like it's the first time he's ever said that to me. I wish I believed him though. I wish I could see what he saw in me. I never will again.

"I don't know if I can wait until we get home to bang the shit out of you," I giggle. "I've missed you so much."

He pulls me against him again and starts to kiss me along my neck. I gasp and giggle. He makes me feel like a virgin again. I flinch when his hand brushes over the scars of my arm. I feel him go rigid beneath me and my heart starts to race. He holds out my arm, it's that same firm grasp that he always uses when he's frustrated with me. He looks over the rows of neat straight scars and then glances up at me. I feel this perfect moment slipping through my fingers when I look into those glorious brown eyes.

"What's this?" Trevor asks.

He doesn't sound mad and that's what makes it even worse for me.

"Things were rough-but I promise everything is perfect. Just let me take you home," I say.

I expect him to hit me or scream at me. I expect him to beat the living shit out of me for this. No matter how much he hurts me I won't tell him the truth. The truth would devastate him. He thinks I'm stronger than all of this. He thinks I could do better. I can't shatter that illusion for him.

"So, hookin' was a little too much for you to handle?"

His words leave me in a state of shock.

"How the fuck did you know?" I ask.

He just laughs. It's such a glorious fucking relief to hear the blessed sound. He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me in close.

"You don't get dough like the kind you've been bragging about by fucking selling panties at the department store," Trevor explains. "I'm not fucking stupid."

"And you don't care?" I ask.

"Fuck no," Trevor says.

How can he still fucking surprise me after all this time and bullshit? After all that time I spent hating myself and blaming myself for all this, he doesn't care. He still wants me. I grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. We can't make it to the apartment. I drag him into the woods by the bus stop and he takes me in the bushes like a fucking wild animal. I can't help but cry when it's over. I'm not sad, not the least fucking bit. I examine the new tattoos plastered on his rippling muscles as he pulls back on his jeans. After all this time, they don't fit quite right.

I soak in every second I have with him. I bask in the presence of my perfect Airman. It was all worth it. I won't punish myself anymore for this. He's forgiven me and that's all that matters. We've been dwelling in this pile of rubble for too long. It's time for us to rise again. It's time to take back our lives and wreak havoc on society once more. We've spent our time in purgatory and it's time for us to rise to the heavens.

"Why are you grinning like an idiot?" Trevor teases.

I watch him struggle to pull his shirt back over his broad shoulders. He's grinning like an idiot too and it's making my cold heart do somersaults.

"I just love you," I say. "Same old shit as always."

He rolls his eyes and I let out a snicker. It is the exact fucking same old shit as always. It's absolutely fucking perfect. He holds out his hand and helps me up. My dress is covered in mud and now has a lovely yellow stain splattered across the chest. I trace my hands along his body because I still can't fucking get over the fact that he's here with me. That we're fucking back in business. This was just a hiccup. I still feel raw from all the misery we endured but I know it won't be long before it's just a distant memory.

"Come on, Momma," Trevor says. "It's time to paint the fucking town red."


	16. I try to run

I hand the steaming cup of coffee to the obese parole officer with a smile so sugary sweet that it would make a diabetic fall into a coma. Trevor's parole officer is a greasy faced sack of shit who is dumber than a stump. I'm getting sick of these weekly visits. This son of a bitch is rude as fuck and he seems to salivate at the slightest opportunity to catch Trevor violating his parole. He sits in Trevor's recliner as if he fucking owns the place. Fuck you, fat ass, in a few weeks you'll never see our faces again. I take my place next to Trevor on the couch. As Trevor drapes his arm over me, I catch the faint scent of my cunt on his fingers. He's not exactly in the greatest fucking mood right now. Officer Dipshit interrupted our little fingering fest.

We've actually been fucking behaving ourselves since Trevor got out of prison. Well, it might be a stretch to say we've been behaving. We're both high as fuck right now and there's two handguns tucked underneath the mattress of our bed. I've been making plans again. What Trevor doesn't know is I'm done with gas stations and liquor stores. I want something more. If we keep pulling shit jobs then we will continue to live the shit life. No, he fucking deserves better and I know he's capable of so much more. I watch Officer Dipshit take a sip of my coffee and wrinkle his nose. I may have put salt in it instead of sugar. How fucking silly of me.

"I won't keep you long, Mr. Philips," Officer Dipshit says. "You should be used to this by now."

Yes, we're too fucking used to it by now.

"I've been good, I swear on my mother's life, sir," Trevor says.

God, the grin he cracks after he says that, it could make a girl's legs give out.

"Of course-" Officer Dipshit says.

Could his tone sound any fucking more skeptical?

"How's the job search going, Mr. Philips?" Officer Dipshit asks.

Trevor's had this conversation dozens of times by now. He's mastered the lies. All I have to do is sit here and look pretty. Fuck, he can just sit there and look pretty too.

"Not so great," Trevor explains. "But what can a guy do, ya know? I just keep putting those applications out there. I'd appreciate it if you kept me in your prayers, sir."

That last bit was a nice touch, I could fucking give him a standing ovation for that shit. I watch Dipshit's shitty ballpoint pen scribble across his clipboard. I'm sure he has nothing nice to say about my Airman but, I could give no fucks. He's lucky we haven't slit his fucking throat.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Philips," Officer Dipshit says.

I highly fucking doubt he is. He asks a few more pointless questions and Trevor glides through the check up like a goddamn champ. Officer Dipshit flashes a yellow smile as I usher him out the front door.

"Have you two set a date yet?" Officer Dipshit asks.

It takes all of my willpower not to fucking roll my eyes. Thank fucking Christ I have Trevor back because as fucking usual he handles shit. Trevor laughs and I'm pretty positive that he actually finds the situation amusing. I feel his hand pinch my ass and it brings a smile to my face.

"No, sir, not anytime soon," Trevor says. "Though my mother just loves her so, she is definitely a keeper."

Way to fucking lay it on nice and thick, Trev. His mother would shit her pants if we got married.

"Well, get on that, life's too short," Officer Dipshit teases.

I will fucking punch you in the face you piece of dog crap. We wave goodbye and I slam the door. I let out a sigh of relief. Trevor and I may have shit to discuss but we have unfinished business from earlier. He's filling out that stained wife beater quite nicely too. I can tell by the look in his eye that he's thinking the same fucking thing. It's barely been a handful of years since we've been together but I feel like the two of us have aged decades. He certainly came out of prison as a different person but fuck, I like what I fucking see.

"What's on your mind, Momma?" Trevor coos.

I slide my hand down his crusty sweatpants and watch that glorious crooked smile spread across his face.

"Oh-ho-ho, you have read my fucking mind," Trevor says.

I was always a fucking horn dog but ever since I've gotten hooked on crystal it's gotten worse. Every waking fucking moment I want his cock. It's even worse now that he's back. He grabs me by the neck and pulls me in for a kiss. His mouth tastes like the dinner of fast food and booze we had last night. He pushes me back against the door and hefts my legs up. It's as if Officer Dipshit was never here. He's brutal as he takes me but I can't get off any other way. Not anymore. I can hear the sound of the door's planks straining beneath us. The neighbors that live below us start to pound on the ceiling. I just fucking laugh.

After all this time apart, I find him to be so intoxicating. Every grunt that escapes from his lips brings me one step closer to going over the edge. I cling on to his sweaty, hard body and dig my nails into the flesh of his back. The feeling of his damp breath on my neck sends chills down my spine. He whispers the nastiest fucking shit to me and I laugh like a teenage girl. This is how it should always be. With my ass pinned to the wall and my legs wrapped around his waist. I can hear the neighbor beneath our apartment cursing at us as he finishes.

We slide to the floor in a sweaty heap, laughing like a bunch of punk kids who just egged somebody's house. I trace my finger along the tattoo around his neck. I've only come to grow fonder of it since he's been home. It's cheesy and stupid but it's something that's uniquely Trevor. It's moments like this when I find it hard to remember that we're doomed. I don't even know how we've lasted this long. Trevor pulls himself off of me and readjusts his sweatpants. I love watching him get dressed after we fuck. He gets this exhausted look of satisfaction on his face that makes me feel like I haven't been fucking up for once. I watch his ass as he walks into the kitchen and gets himself a beer from the fridge. He peeks around the door of the fridge and tosses me a can. When I catch it in my hands, it feels like it weighs a million pounds. I pop the top and gulp down the bitter drink. I crush the empty can in my hand. Even when I'm high, I can't bring myself to toss trash onto my floor. I've been satisfied now, my mind is clear and I can get down to business with him. I just hope Trevor will be as eager as I am once he hears about my new plans.

"Baby," I begin. "I've got something I want to talk to you about."

He saunters back over to me from the kitchen, the look on his face tells me he is not amused.

"Shit, are you fucking pregnant?" Trevor asks.

"No," I say. "And if I was, I would've fucking taken care of it by now."

I'm taken aback by the way his expression saddens. Seriously? He looks like I just shot him in the fucking foot or like I bashed in a puppy's skull. I remember all those years ago when we were at Kimmy's house. I think about the way his face lit up when he saw those kids. I shouldn't have been fucking surprised at all by his reaction. For some twisted fucking reason, Trevor fancies himself a good father.

"What?" I press. "Do you really think you and I are even remotely in a good position to be parents? We're fucking drug addicts and criminals, baby. That's not exactly parent material. Not to mention the fact that I am completely fucking nuts."

I would say he's crazy too but that always leads to broken bones and bruises. Trevor seems to be miffed by what I've just said. I watch him clench his fists, the veins in his wrists bulging. So much for discussing future plans, I just started a fight.

"I would be an excellent fucking father," Trevor says. "You don't think I'd be a good father?"

His face is starting to turn red but his voice still sounds steady. I can save this conversation still.

"That's not what I said," I explain. "I know you're good with kids."

He smiles. Shit, that fucking bullet has been dodged.

"You really mean that, Momma?" Trevor asks.

Shit, when he makes those puppy dog eyes at me, I feel like I'm dealing with a fucking kid. I feel like I keep getting older and he stays the same fucking age. He's a kid at heart and I love him for it. Shit, and I do mean it. I really do fucking mean it. I know we've got problems and I know he isn't exactly the most stable fucking person on earth but, Trevor is loyal. I have never known a single person on this fucking planet who was as loyal as him. As soon as he laid eyes on his own spawn, I know he'd be willing to chop off his own arm to keep them safe.

"I do," I say. "I have no doubt in my mind that you would be a good father-I just know I'd be a terrible mother."

"Maybe one day," Trevor muses.

It won't be with me. It hurts to admit that. We've been through a lot now, we survived him going to prison and I still know deep in my gut that we're not going to spend the rest of our days together. I can't see myself surviving it. He'll go on, shit he'll fucking thrive.

"Listen, baby," I say.

I'm desperate to change the subject. I don't want to get depressed thinking about how fucking doomed the two of us are.

"I've got an idea for our next job," I say.

He perks up at the sound of that. Trevor flops down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. It's an invitation that I can't refuse. I curl up next to him and rest my head on his chest. He's still sweaty from our rampant fucking and reeks of cum and sweat. I feel so fucking small next to him sometimes but, I love it.

"Tell me about it," Trevor says. "I'm dying to fucking get back in the saddle."

"Oh I know you are, my dear," I say.

Fuck, I could live everyday like this. The absolute fucking joy plastered on his face. The prospect of fucking people over, crashing cars, shooting cops and running off into the sunset with a fist full of money has us practically salivating.

"So what's the grand fucking plan, Momma? We hitting up the liquor store down the block?" Trevor asks. "I want to get us a nice fucking ride for the road trip, I'm thinking maybe a Buccaneer? Or maybe a Vigero!"

I brush my fingertips along his chin. He practically purrs like a goddamn kitten beneath my touch. The power trip it sends me on is delightful.

"I'm done with that small time shit, baby, don't you think we're ready for something more?" I press.

He narrows his eyes and cracks the blessed crooked grin of his. I knew he'd be intrigued. We've evolved past our old vices. He must've figured that out when he was in the slammer.

"What did you have in mind?" He says in a low growl.

His voice is dripping with sexual energy and it sends a chill down my spine. It was only moments ago that I had him inside of me and I'm already hungry for another go. I need to hold back, we have things to discuss, fucking can come later.

"Did I ever tell you about Sidney Goldberg?" I ask. "He was my first trick."

Trevor just scratches his balls and shakes his head. God, he's such a pig but I wouldn't have him any other way.

"He's the sick fuck who got me started. He likes to throw weird sex parties." I explain. "He's rich as fuck too. He became one of my regulars. I've had plenty of opportunities to scope out his place."

I can tell he's catching on. Trevor has that familiar flicker of excitement in his eye and I know he's in before he even has to say a word.

"He keeps a hoard of cash stashed in some ugly statue in his bedroom." I say. "And if we feel up to it, we can relieve him of some of his unnecessary possessions. A man with so much can do with donating some of his funds to the poor."

Trevor's so excited he's already getting a hard on. Fuck, I'm practically a nuclear reactor down there too just talking about this. I watch his hand rub at his crotch as his shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

"Yeaah—" Trevor says. "We could break in at night—paint the walls with his brains—"

"Now, now," I say. "He's a bastard but he doesn't deserve that."

Trevor cackles and traces his hand along the back of my neck. He's so aroused his hand is shaking. He licks his lips as the situation in his pants grows more dire.

"Tell me," Trevor begs. "Tell me how it's gonna go down."

His grip on the back of my neck is firm. His damp palm is pressed against my skin and I watch his gaze flicker from his crotch up to my eyes. He's not grinning anymore. I know he isn't angry though. A stranger would read this expression as something to be feared but I know better. He wants this so badly that there's no joking around with him.

"I'll call Goldberg," I begin. "Tell him my boyfriend is having a hard time finding work. We'll come over for a private session. I know he'll say yes. Hell, if you feel up to it, we actually can fuck him."

Trevor reaches down his sweatpants and I grin when I see his hand start to bob up and down.

"I'll slip something into his drink. He has tons of fucking pills lying around that house and I know exactly which ones will do the trick," I explain.

Trevor groans and the guttural sound fills me with desire. I love this game though; I'm not ready to stop.

"Once he passes out," I go on. "You and I go to work. We can trash the place. Who fucking cares if it's a mess? He has so much money he can replace it all. We smash that cheesy fucking statue and stuff all that cash into a sack—"

"How much is it?" Trevor gasps.

I gnaw on my bottom lip and slide my hand down his pants. I relish the sight of him writhing beneath my touch. His eyes are locked onto mine and he begs me to go on.

"It's at least fifty grand," I say. "And it'll be all ours."

He arches his back and his eyes roll backwards.

"Then we just hop into our…Vigero was it?" I say. "And we drive off into the night."

He says nothing but, I know the plan is perfect. He pushes my head down and I take him into my mouth. Trevor bucks and squirms beneath me and I can't help but cackle. I feel an overwhelming sense of elation. We're ready for this. He's ready for this. There's a million and one things that could go wrong but I don't care. It'll be worth it alone just to see the joy it brings him. He grips the back of my head and pulls me away. I look up at him. His face is red and sweaty but, he's grinning like the mad man he is.

"Make the call," Trevor says. "Tonight-we do it tonight."

I can still taste his seed in my mouth when I make the call. Trevor hovers over my shoulder and I have to smother the giggles that he's coaxing out of me. I make up some sob story for Goldberg. I appeal to that fake sense of morals that he always projected to me. We're such a sweet couple, desperate for money, and he's helped me out before. It doesn't take much to convince him. I'm not the least fucking bit surprised. We pack up our lives once more into that same shitty suitcase that we've always used. Trevor says nothing when he sees me tuck away the bag with his Air Force badges. I bid farewell to the shithole that served as my prison while Trevor was away and we leave.

The sky is turning shades of violet as the sun dips below the horizon. We boost a shitty sedan from down the block. Watching him hot wire the car brings back that familiar high that I've missed for so long. On the drive to Goldberg's, I repeat my ritual for the last time. I paint my lips and dab the cheap perfume on my neck. It will be the first and last time Trevor sees me like this. He'll get a glimpse into how my year without him went and I get the closure I need. It all started with Goldberg and it's all going to fucking end with him too.

Trevor can barely contain his excitement. I'm barely able to talk him down by the time we pull into Goldberg's driveway. I smooth out his hair before we step out of the shitty car. It's not a Vigero but it's what we have to work with. After this job, we'll be able to buy whatever fucking car he wants. I look at the ostentatious entryway and remember all the nights I spent behind these walls. I can taste bile in the back of my throat as I relive the memories. It was good fucking money, I can't deny that, but I still hate myself for it. I know it's not Goldberg's fault. I could've said no. I didn't have to go down that road. I could've tried harder. I could've gotten off the meth and found myself a legitimate job. But I don't give a fuck. I want to close the fucking book on this part of our lives. I will fuck Goldberg just like he fucked me.

Trevor and I exchange glances before I ring the doorbell. I feel the excitement building in my chest. It's that tingling feeling you get when you're a kid and your parents tell you they're taking you to the amusement park. There won't be any characters in costumes here though. Just lots of blood and screaming. Goldberg answers the door. He never keeps around the hired help when he has parties like this. I flash him a smile. He still has that cheesy fucking gold tooth.

"It's good to see you again, sweet heart," Goldberg says.

The sound of his voice makes me want to punch him in the fucking teeth.

"This is Trevor," I say. "I've mentioned him before. Honey, meet Sidney."

"Hey," Trevor says.

Look at him, acting all coy. Goldberg ushers us inside. I remember being impressed the first time I walked in here. That's not the case anymore. Even though Goldberg, has fuck tons of money he's still a piece of trash. The vaulted ceilings, gaudy crystal chandeliers, mahogany wood floors, and spiral staircase are just a ritzy façade for Goldberg to hide behind. That's all life is, just finding ways to hide the monster that hides within us all. Trevor seems completely unimpressed. I'm so fucking proud of him for that. It's just like every other fucking mansion. It's just a gold plated pile of shit at the end of the day.

Goldberg guides us to his living room. I've spent plenty of time on these plush leather couches and I've certainly watched a shit ton of weird porn on that glossy big screen TV. Trevor props his feet up on the glass coffee table like the classless sack of shit he is. He isn't acting the least fucking bit awkward about this situation either. No fucking surprise there. Goldberg serves us some drinks. Trevor tosses back the whiskey without even blinking. That shit probably won't do a goddamn thing for him anyway. I won't drink. I don't take shit that brings me down when I'm working. Goldberg takes a seat next to me. It's uncomfortably fucking close too. Even with the three of us on this black leather monstrosity, it still seems like the couch is going to swallow us whole.

"I've heard so much about you, Trevor," Goldberg says.

His voice does sound like he is legitimately interested. The twisted fuck.

"Well, there's a lot to be said about me," Trevor says.

Goldberg laughs, it's an empty forced sound. I savor this small talk though. He's just the stupid little fly that's about to get snared in our nasty fucking web.

"Why aren't you drinking, my dear? Oh that's right you're not a fan of whiskey," Goldberg coos. "Why don't you go fetch a bottle of wine?"

Jesus, he fucking might as well just put the money in my hands.

"That's awfully generous of you, Sidney," I say. "Are you sure?"

Trevor's already getting jumpy. It's been so long, I knew he'd have a hard time containing himself. It's making me a nervous fuck though watching him twitch with anticipation. Please, Christ, don't let Goldberg fucking notice.

"Go on, my dear, besides it seems your boyfriend could use something to uh—ease him into the situation," Goldberg says.

"Oh yeaah—he's just never done this type of thing before, Sidney, but I promise he won't disappoint," I say.

I see Goldberg reaching for my shoulder and I get up before his greasy fucking fingers make contact with my skin. I can hear the muffled sounds of Trevor and Goldberg making small talk. He's playing off of the nervous druggie angle that Goldberg fucking spoon-fed us. Trevor's such a smart fucking boy. Makes me proud. I take my detour to the bathroom. Well, one of the fucking bathrooms. The one where Goldberg stashes all his pills. It's an obnoxious polished white marble mess. The tub could probably fit a dozen hookers though the most I've ever seen is about six. All the plumbing fixtures are gold plated. Like I fucking said, it's a typical fucking mansion. I dig through the cabinet; my fingers tracing along the white caps of the sea of orange bottles.

I find the tranquilizer. Shit, enough of this could fucking kill him. I head back to the kitchen and crush up the pills. I can hear Trevor and Goldberg's laughter echoing through the house. I pull out the most expensive looking fucking bottle of wine that Goldberg has. I'm not going to drink any of it but, fuck, I don't give a shit. I grind up the pills into a fine powder and it doesn't take me long to notice that a strange silence has fallen over the house. There's only one reason why Goldberg would shut his nasty fucking mouth. I wrinkle up my nose at the revolting thought. Prison opened Trevor's eyes to different –opportunities. It's a newly emerging aspect of him that I'm still getting used to. I sprinkle the fine white powder into Goldberg's wine. If there is a fucking god he won't notice the strange taste.

I carry the glasses down the hall. I can barely hear the sound of my feet hitting the plush white carpet. I'm thankful when I walk into the living room and find Goldberg and Trevor fully clothed. Their silence was a false alarm.

"Here she is," Goldberg declares.

When I serve the wine, I make sure to bend over so my ass is in Trevor's face. I can already spy the raging hard on beneath his jeans and I relish the chance to tease him. We're so fucking close now.

"Cheers," I say, holding up my glass of wine.

"Cheers," Goldberg says.

We toast. The glasses clink and I watch Goldberg slurp down that wine like its tap water. I pretend to take a sip and leave behind a nice swath of lipstick on the slick glass. Trevor doesn't even bother faking it. He just watches Goldberg drink. Goddamnit, I knew he was too excited. I have to deflect this. I grab him by the collar and pull him in for a kiss. He goes rigid at first, and I can feel him resisting but then he eases right fucking into it. I start to rub at the bulge in his pants and flash a smile at Goldberg.

"C'mon, baby," I say. "It's time to go to work."

Goldberg doesn't have the slightest fucking clue what I really mean when I say that. Goldberg eases back in his chair and my smile grows wider with every gulp of wine that sick fuck takes. It doesn't take long for me to become completely absorbed in Trevor's kiss. It gets harder to concentrate on Goldberg, to keep checking back on him. Trevor slides his hand up my skirt and I gasp with desperation. God fucking damn it; I knew I shouldn't have smoked up before this. I should have my head in the fucking game and not horny as fuck like this. God though, the way he touches me makes it so easy to forget. I barely even hear the sound of Goldberg's fat body sliding out of the chair and flopping onto the plush carpet. He cackles as I tear off his shirt. I hike up my skirt and wrap my legs around his waist. I pull him closer, groping at his muscled back, the thirst for vengeance has me hungry for him. As I let out a moan, Trevor covers my mouth. His grasp is firm and quick. He pins me to the couch and goes rigid.

"Who the fuck are you?" Trevor growls.

I squirm away from him. I crane my neck over the back of the couch and my eyes fall on the unexpected source of our disturbance. A fucking burglar. Are you fucking serious? I can't really make out the asshole's face because he's wearing a black ski mask. He's all fucking in black like some cheese ball from a bad movie. Whoever the fuck he is, he's a bit shorter than Trevor and has a stocky build. He immediately pulls out a hand gun and points it at us.

"Don't fucking move!" He shouts.

His accent is hard to pinpoint. It's almost as if he's from Liberty City. It's harsh sounding, but he doesn't have shit on Trevor.

"You don't fucking move!" Trevor snaps. "This is our fucking score so, get the fuck out!"

The burglar holds his ground. I glance over to Goldberg, he's still out fucking cold on the carpet. At least that has fucking gone right. I didn't bring any guns with me; I pray to Christ Trevor can pull the pistol he stashed in his briefs out fast enough.

"Your fucking score!?" The burglar mocks. "It looks like you're just fucking a hooker to me."

"Hey!" I protest.

"Shut up!" Trevor barks.

I sit up on the couch and tug my skirt back down. Trevor stands up and I expect the burglar to unload his pistol into Trevor's chest. That doesn't happen. I just watch the barrel of the gun remain fixed on my boyfriend's head.

"I asked you a fucking question," Trevor says. "Who the fuck are you?"

The burglar glances over at Goldberg's body. He takes a step back and for the briefest moment he allows the gun to fall away from Trevor. Trevor digs his pistol out of his pants; I hear the click of the safety being turned off and watch him point it at the intruder.

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" The burglar says, he holds his gun back up.

Fuck, is this going to be a fucking shoot out? Am I going to die on this disgusting fucking couch and watch Trevor's brains splatter on this carpet?

"Let's just fucking be cool," The burglar says. "Let's just have a nice fucking chat."

I hate how fucking useless I feel right now. I'm fucking unarmed and dressed like a skank.

"Okay, I can be fucking cool," Trevor says.

Fuck, I can't help but laugh when he says that. The burglar keeps shifting his aim between Trevor and I. It's pointless. I may be a fucked up bitch but, I have no doubt he could take me down very easily. Trevor's the one he really needs to fucking worry about.

"Did you kill him?" The burglar asks, he jerks his head in Goldberg's direction.

I open my mouth to speak but Trevor interrupts me.

"No, we fucking drugged him," Trevor says.

Shit, I normally do the talking. In a situation like this I would feel a lot better if I had more control. I can't predict what Trevor will say. The only thing I can fucking predict about this situation we've gotten ourselves into is that Trevor will be a loose cannon.

"You fucking drugged him?" The burglar asks. "So, is this what you guys do on a Wednesday night? Just drug random strangers and fuck on their couches?"

"It's none of your goddamn business," Trevor hisses. "I suggest you fucking leave though before I plant a bullet in your fucking brain."

The burglar seems completely unshaken. Trevor is an intimidating guy. I know some of his fellow prisoners were terrified of him so why the fuck is this guy so unfazed? Who the fuck does he think he is?

"I thought we were going to be chill," The burglar says. "Look, we're obviously both here for unsavory purposes-some of us seem more prepared."

Trevor sneers. I can tell he's getting frustrated. Fuck, it's possible we'll have to dispose of a body tonight at this rate.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Trevor growls. "We were fucking prepared. We were fucking golden until you showed up."

The burglar laughs. Holy fucking shit. I expect Trevor to tackle him, to shoot him, to do something but he just stands there. What the fuck? Where has all his vigor gone?

"Wait wait wait, so you knew about all the cameras around here and you still showed up without a mask on? I mean really, c'mon, you've gotta be fucking joking." The burglar says.

"Cameras?" I say.

Shit, I never thought about that. I mean, sure, I've seen them around here but it never occurred to me while I was planning this whole thing. Fucking hell. I feel like an idiot. I let this asshole know too. The way my voice sounds when I speak makes it that much more fucking apparent that I was oblivious. The burglar just laughs and shakes his head.

"What?"The burglar goes on. "And you obviously didn't break in. So I'm going to go ahead and guess you know this guy. Another genius fucking move."

"So what if we fucking know him?!" Trevor snaps. "Who the fuck are you? Why the fuck should we listen to a word you say?"

This asshole is right. I feel so fucking stupid. I got so caught up in my need to get back at Goldberg for some nonexistent wrongs that I didn't think this through. The only thing stopping Goldberg from turning us both in is the chance he'd be fucking embarrassed. Like he'd give two shits though. I'm sure he has enough cash that he could just bribe the cops to arrest us. I fucked us more than I could ever have hoped to fuck over Goldberg.

"Because he's right, baby," I say.

I sound so fucking defeated.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Trevor asks.

His voice is just dripping with disdain.

"Look," I say. "Why don't you just both put the guns down and lets sort this shit out."

Trevor shoots me a nasty look and keeps his gun pointed at the burglar.

"No fucking way," Trevor growls.

I let out a sigh. I stand up. The burglar's stance seems to have relaxed a bit but, he still seems like he's on high alert. I have to think fucking fast. Work mode has kicked in; it's not the same as it was years ago. My brain has been fried from all the fucking crystal but I still have some game.

"Babe," I say. "He's right. Do you really wanna end up back in the slammer?"

Trevor just lets out an angry grunt. I shake my head. Goddamnit, just fucking listen to me you stubborn little shit.

"We're not the only ones caught with our hands in the cookie jar though," I say.

I glance at the burglar. I wish I could see his face so I could read his expression but I don't get that chance.

"Oh please," The burglar laughs. "I'm the one holding all the fucking cards here."

What a little douche.

"Can I shoot him now, Momma?" Trevor asks.

"I'll shoot you first, shit head," The burglar snaps.

The tension hanging in this room is just too fucking much. This is the first person we've encountered in a long time that we couldn't beat. He isn't scared easily or if he is, he's excellent at fucking hiding it.

"Look," The burglar says. "You guys have ruined my score. There is no way in hell I'm robbing this place after the fucking mess you guys made."

He's going to make a deal with us. I don't like the concept of that. It's always been me and Trevor. Three's a fucking crowd. He's giving us this nice little scrap to work with though, so I can't turn my nose up at that. I don't trust this guy at fucking all but what choice do we fucking have right now?

"Our fucking mess?" Trevor snaps. "It could get a lot fucking messier, buddy."

I roll my eyes. Trevor isn't going to make this fucking easy but he's not the type to admit he's wrong. I want to call him an idiot and punch him in the face. I know that will only make shit worse.

"Listen, babe," I say. "Just listen to what he has to say. We're in a tight spot here. Okay? What the fuck do we have to lose?"

Trevor readjusts his grip on the gun and keeps his gaze fixed on the burglar.

"Fine," He relents.

I realize just how fucking big this guy's balls are when he lowers the gun. He relaxes his stance and leans against the wall. Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if he pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking. His body language makes it all too clear to me. He knows he's won. I hate this fucking feeling he gives me. This fucker has more game than me; a lot fucking more. Trevor seems taken aback by the burglar's behavior. He keeps his gun aimed at the bastard though.

"Well, let's say I help you clean up this mess." The burglar begins. "I help you get the security tapes but this guy—we might have to cap him."

I glance back at Goldberg lying on the floor like a beached fucking whale. He's had parties like this before. I know he's woken up many a morning not remembering what the fuck happened. It's likely when he wakes up he'll think nothing of it.

"He won't have to die," I say. "I know him. Trust me, he'll just think it was another crazy night of partying gone wrong when he comes to."

The burglar nods and folds his arms across his chest.

"Well, see, if I help you two out, that means you owe me," The burglar explains. "I mean this was supposed to be a pretty big pay out for me. Now I'm going to have to find a new mark and spend months getting ready for that. That's a lot of time I've wasted."

"What the fuck are you getting at?" Trevor asks.

"You two help me pull my next score," The burglar says. "Yes, you're incompetent but I think you guys have some potential. You're an intimidating guy, which can be pretty fucking useful."

I note that he has nothing positive to say about me. I wouldn't either. Shit, if he's picked up on the fact that I'm the brains than all he's seen is this shitty set up I've made. He has to have noticed the way I talk to Trevor. He's been reading us from the fucking get go. What a slick little shit. I glance up at Trevor and it's like I'm not even standing next to him. He's looking the burglar over like he's a prime piece of steak. I rest my hand on Trevor's shoulder and he looks down at me. I can see my lipstick smeared all over his face and the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Babe," I say.

I sound so fucking defeated.

"If you're cool with this, I am too," I say.

At least I can give the illusion to Trevor that we have a choice. I nearly pass out when Trevor lowers his gun. Holy shit, this is fucking happening. We're going to team up with some random fucking stranger? This doesn't feel good to me but our only other option is to end up behind bars.

"We're in," Trevor says.

The burglar nods in approval.

"Great!" He declares.

I can hear the sense of pride in his voice. I know he's relishing this victory. I can't blame him. I would fucking too.

I'm amazed by how the burglar leads us through the house. He has the layout memorized and he knows about the nooks and crannies that I was never able to discover. He finds the security set up in the basement with ease. I feel like a fucking child around him. Trevor is in awe of him though. It makes me fucking jealous as hell. He used to look at me with that sense of childlike admiration. We watch the burglar wipe the tapes. I should feel relief that the evidence has been destroyed but I just want to scream. After all of this bullshit, we're walking away from this place with nothing.

When we reach the dark sanctuary of the car, I take out my smoldering self hatred on my skin. I scratch at the invisible layer of dirt that seems to be ever present now on my flesh. Even when I draw blood, I don't stop. I give no fucks if Trevor notices. It's too fucking dark for either of them to see anyway. The burglar keeps his eyes peeled out the back window as we pull away from Goldberg's mansion. I want to just reach into the back seat an tear that wooly black mask right off of his face. I glare at him and feel a swell of hatred inside of me. I don't even know his name and I already despise him. He beat me at my own game. He made me feel like an idiot. He took away my chance to back stab the man whose cock I used to suck for money. He directs us towards the highway. The small talk he's making with Trevor fills me with even more anger. It's like this is some casual encounter. Like we're just picking up a buddy from work. Fuck this. I whirl around in my seat and give that fucker the dirtiest look I can muster.

"Okay, so we're out of there. No cameras, no nothing," I snap. "Take off that fucking mask and tell us who you fucking are."

The burglar holds up his hands and laughs. God damn he pisses me off. He's cocky as fuck. I hate that I can't intimidate him. Trevor laughs at me too. He's laughing at fucking me. How fucking dare he? I've had Trevor's back for years and now it's like none of that shit we went through mattered.

"Calm down, sweet cheeks," the burglar says.

He peels off the ski mask. His features are not what I was expecting. His face is hard to make out in the shadows of the car but I can still see a cleft in his chin. His face is rounder than I thought it would be too. He has a fluffy head of brown hair and a large forehead. He's got the jaw of a fucking bulldog. He holds out his hand to me and I catch a glimpse of his brown eyes. He looks about the same age as Trevor. He has that pretty boy look to him, it's not my cup of tea but I'm sure he gets a lot of pussy, especially with that bad boy attitude he has. We shake hands. I feel awkward when I realize his skin is softer than mine.

"Nice to meet you," he says. "The name's Townley. Michael Townley."


	17. But I don't wanna ever leave

There isn't a single human being that I hate more on this god forsaken planet than Michael fucking Townley. He convinced Trevor that we should stay in town until he's finished with parole. Fuck and I know he's right. The last fucking thing we'd need is a warrant out for Trevor's arrest because he violated parole. The only fucking problem is, we're about fifty thousand dollars poorer and I don't have money to pay rent. Michael wants to pull some fancy schmancy job but what he doesn't fucking realize is I need money now. It won't be long before the last of the funds I saved up from prostituting will be gone. Jesus and that fat midget fuck struts around clucking about his war stories too. Trevor just eats that shit up. He tells me he never realized his full potential until Michael came around. Bull fucking shit. I always saw his potential.

Yeah, I'm a jealous girlfriend. I know I should be happy that in some twisted fucking turn of events Trevor found himself a friend but I am not. Michael takes Trevor out all the time, leaving me alone in this apartment. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into making a good life for Trevor and Michael has taken all of that away from me. As soon as we pay off our debt to Michael, that's fucking it. We're gone. No more fucking Mikey and Trev. It's selfish as shit. I'm well fucking aware of that but Trevor is mine. I share him with no one. I pour out all my hatred into this goddamn apartment. Every dish, every hard to reach corner, ever cum stained sheet have now become my salvation. I smoke crystal all day, scrub the fuck out of my apartment, and pick at my flesh. Don't those fucks realize how much I need this? I can't be cooped up in this place all fucking day.

It's just like every other fucking day now. Trevor's gone. He's out tearing up the town with Michael. I'm sprawled out on our beat up couch, staring up at the ceiling as I idly pick at a scab on my face. The crotch of my pants is damp from the unsatisfied arousal that I've been fighting since I smoked up this afternoon. Jesus, we barely fuck anymore. A lady's fingers can only do so much and I miss the taste of his sweat and the feel of his hands pawing over my breasts. Just thinking about him is too fucking much for me right now. I picture him in his old uniform. The way those olive green pants were always pulled a little too tightly across his crotch. Fuck, I'm done.

The more time that goes by, the farther away it seems those days are. He'll always be my Airman though. No matter how old we get, no matter how much time distances us from each other. Even when I've moved on and I'm fucking a new man, I'll still fantasize about that twisted young Airman who picked me up in that bar. I want to hate him, especially lately, but as I pleasure myself I just get lost in the splendid memory of him. We've beaten each other till we're black and blue. The two of us together is such an ugly thing but I can't get enough of it. I think about his strong hands gripping my hips as he slams into the back of me. The orgasm I give myself is shallow and disappointing. It only leaves me angrier.

I make up a nice fucking dinner as the sun sets. I know he won't be home in time to actually eat it. I set the table for two but end up eating alone. I watch his food grow colder as the hours slip by. The grease congealing on the plate as my rage grows stronger. This reminds me of the days when we stayed under Dani's roof. When he ran around fucking hookers and blowing my money on drugs. I should've known back then that history would eventually repeat itself. No, it fucking didn't have to. None of this would've happened if it hadn't been for fucking Michael. That slick little shit. I always knew that, out of the two of us, that Trevor was the one who really had a knack for thievery. He has all the right assets for this type of life. I fucking do not. I'm stupid and weak. It's only natural for someone as experienced as Michael to latch on to the true talent. Michael Townley is going to be the end of us. He's going to get Trevor to finally see me for what I really am. I'm a fucking parasite. I dig my splintered fingernails into the skin of my forearm. I claw at the pealing skin of healing wounds and think about the knife sitting in the cupboard and the nights I used to spend running that blade along my arm. This is the first time I've thought about that since Trevor's been home. I resist the urge. If I don't start to cut down on the crazy shit, it'll just be another incentive for Trevor to ditch me.

I hear the jangling of keys outside the apartment door. I wait for the click of the lock as it comes undone. The mix of emotions his arrival brings me is strange. I want to cut his throat but I want wrap my arms around him and beg him to stay with me forever. He staggers through the door. It's obvious to me that Trevor's a bit tipsy. He probably tried to sober up a bit before he came home. It's a tiny gesture that makes me want to cry. He looks me up and down as I sit hunched over the kitchen table. His black cowboy shirt is halfway unbuttoned and the fly of his pants is wide fucking open. I try not to think about the hands of horny strippers that were groping at his cock tonight. He sways back and forth, finally giving up and leaning against the wall.

"You made me dinner?" He asks, pointing to the plate of cold food sitting on the table.

I can't even look him in the eye. It's a lot harder for me to sort out my emotions when I'm pumped full of crystal.

"Yeah," I say.

My voice sounds so small.

"I—uh—ate already," Trevor says with a shrug.

I just nod. I can feel my face contorting into a sneer. I knew this was how tonight would go but why is it so different now that it's happening? Why am I so fucking angry?

"What?" I ask. "Did you eat some slut's pussy? Is that why you're not hungry?"

My comment immediately makes his brow start to twitch with fury.

"Oh wait," I say. "You were sucking Michael's dick I bet. Shit's gotta be as thick as a beer can."

He staggers over to me and flips over the kitchen table. The plates smash as they hit the floor and I fall out of my chair. My head bounces against the linoleum and a sharp pain shoots through my jaw.

"Why do you have to be such a cunt!?" Trevor roars. "What fucking stick have you got up your ass now!?"

I struggle to get up off of the floor but there's no need. Trevor grabs me by the arm and yanks me up in one fluid motion. I try to slug him in the face but he grabs my arm by the wrist. I'm so mad I can't even find the words. It's not really Trevor who I hate though. I thrash and kick and he carries me into the living room like I'm a goddamn rag doll. I call him every name in the fucking book. His face grows redder with every insult I throw at him. He's already to the point where's he's silent he's so furious. His biceps bulge as he tosses me onto the couch. I'm so blinded by rage that I'm not thinking straight anymore. Trevor doesn't expect me to leap at him like I do. I barrel into him like a football player and he falls backwards. He slams into the cheap coffee table and the wood splinters beneath his weight. I climb on top of him and start pounding my fists on his solid chest.

"Get the fuck off of me you crazy goddamn bitch!" Trevor barks.

He grabs me by the waist and pushes me onto the floor. I can feel the splinters from the coffee table snagging on my skin and tearing open fresh wounds. He straddles me and I'm pinned by his weight. Fucking bastard, he figured out just the right position to get in to immobilize me. Clever little shit. He does this every fucking time we fight now. He barely even flinches as I thrash about trying to get out from under him. I don't even know why I bother trying to fucking escape.

"What the fuck is your deal!?" Trevor demands. "Huh? Are you fucking going to speak like a civilized person or just keep acting like a goddamn monkey!?"

"Fuck you!" I scream.

I try to squirm away and he presses down on me even harder. As much as I hate him right now, I still hate Michael even more.

"I'll let you if you fucking tell me what the fuck is going on!" Trevor snaps.

He grins as he says that. He must think he's such a fucking genius for coming up with that line.

"You know exactly what's going on!" I say.

He laughs at me as he keeps me pinned to the ground. I'm smearing blood all over his clothes and he gives no fucks.

"What? You on your fucking period? Aren't you getting a little old for that?" Trevor teases.

I spit at him and he slaps me across the face. My skin tingles from the impact and the sharp pain in my jaw grows worse. I freeze. I can taste blood in my mouth. I feel like if I move my jaw just one tiny bit that the agony will be even worse. I tilt my head so I can look him in the eye. He seems deeply satisfied with the results of his actions. He lets out a low deep cackle. His eyes are wide with excitement and I actually feel myself swooning over the psychotic smile on his face. I just stare right fucking at him.

It's fucked up. It's twisted and evil. It's everything that's wrong with this crazy world. But when I look up at him, grinning like a maniac and laughing at my pain, I can only think of how desperately I want him in my life. I know it's not normal. I know it's not healthy. I'm fucking lying on my back, bleeding out like a virgin getting fucking by a black dude, and all I can think about is how much I love him. I'm losing him. I'm losing all of this. I know it's not right to love him but I can't let him go even if he cripples me.

"You're never around anymore," I say.

I sound so broken. I hate sounding so weak in front of him but lately I have felt my façade of strength being torn away. What's the point of trying to hide it anymore? I'm a spineless slug.

"Ever since we met Michael, I never see you," I go on. "And I thought it was us that owed him a score. It seems like he just takes you out. I feel like dead weight. I feel so fucking useless. You know how much I hate that, don't you?"

He lets out a long sigh. Trevor doesn't seem the least bit concerned. If anything, he seems annoyed with me. He crawls off of me and helps me up. My jaw is screaming from that little bit of talking I just did. Fuck, perfect way to start off this conversation. I feel the anger starting to ebb away. All that's left is that sting I feel from a bruised ego. I was Trevor's beacon and now I'm just a worm. Michael is the fucking light of his life now and they barely know each other.

"Look, Momma, you're just going to have to deal with this." Trevor explains. "Mikey is a stand up fucking guy, okay? We owe him a fucking lot. Yeah, we've been scoping shit out and no, we haven't brought you along. He's just not sure about you, okay?"

Not fucking sure about me? Are you fucking serious? I hate how this stranger just stumbles into our life and he can just read me like a book. He's just some punk kid.

"If he's not sure then I'll fucking show him!" I declare. "I'll go pull a job all by my fucking self! I fucking have game!"

When Trevor laughs at me, it cuts me to the core.

"Momma, listen, I know we need money. Just relax okay? Maybe you can go back to hookin'. You could bring home fifty bucks probably from a night on the corner," Trevor says.

"Fifty bucks!?" I scream. "I'm worth more than that! Fuck turning tricks! I'm a goddamn bandit! I rob people! I do the fucking! Nobody fucks me!"

The look on his face is too much for me. Trevor seems more amused by my protests than anything else. He should be comforting me; he should be telling me I can pull jobs with him. Has he forgotten all the shit we've done? Has Michael really changed everything over night?

"You know what!?" I snap. "Call him, right fucking now. Go call that little fucking shit head! I need a fucking getaway driver! Go get your shit, Trev! Right fucking now!"

I try to push past him to get to the bathroom. I need to get myself cleaned up; I need to get my gun. He grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me back. He still looks completely fucking entertained. Is that what I am to him now? I'm a fucking joke?

"Hey, chill the fuck out," Trevor teases. "You're not thinking right. I think you smoked some bad shit."

I want to deck him in the teeth. I'm still so furious but I know it's not his fault. I clench my fists and when I grit my teeth, pain shoots throughout my jaw.

"Fine," I relent. "But I fucking come with tomorrow."

His face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. I'm not sure if it's because he's won this battle or that I'm trying to reassert my dominance. You can never honestly fucking know with him.

"That's my fucking girl," Trevor says.

I'm not okay still but if I don't let this go than I'll lose him. It would be easier to just walk away right now but I'm not willing to. I will cling on to this twisted fucking love affair until the last possible moment. He finally lets me by so I can get to the bathroom. I clean myself up just as I do every other fucking time we fight. When I wash away the blood and tears it's like I'm wiping away the memory of the confrontation. My clean face is like a fresh slate for us. I splash cold water on my face and pat my skin dry with the cheap stained towel. When I glance up, I can see Trevor's reflection in the mirror. He's leaning against the door frame with a wicked smile on his face. In the harsh white light of the bathroom he still looks divine to me. It makes it easier to forget that we were just at each other's throats.

He watches me go through the motions of putting myself back together. His gaze never tears away from my body. I'm used to him staring. Fuck, I stare at him a lot too. I gaze at his reflection and smile. It's a short lived expression because shooting pain immediately radiates throughout my jaw when I do it. I start to run a brush through my knotted hair. He steps into the bathroom and I can feel him press his hand against the small of my back. It still blows me away how tender he can be in the wake of our war mongering. He leans over my shoulder and kisses me on along my neck. He nibbles on my earlobe and I giggle like a horny teenager. Trevor's mouth lingers by my ear and the sound of his breathing gives me goose bumps.

"Just for the record," Trevor whispers. "I know you've got game."

His compliment leads to the best make up sex we've ever had. The bitch has nothing to say for a blessed handful of hours. I don't care about the blood we're getting on the sheets or the destruction we wrought in the rest of the apartment. I can even forget about how little time we have left together. I trace my fingers along his tattoos as he grinds into my body. Our legs are tangled in the thread bare white sheets like bears stuck in a trap. I know it's awful but it seems like a nasty fucking fight always brings us right back to each other. The day is coming soon though when even that won't save us. No amount of violence and fucking will keep this thing going.

As he sleeps in my arms, I can feel his drool sliding down the curves of my chest. I can feel the crystal starting to wear off and with it comes the bitch. It's rare to hear her sinister whispers nowadays. Usually the drugs silence her. I feel the gnawing itch to clean the apartment and to make it perfect again. I stroke Trevor's matted hair and try to fight the bitch's demands. Any night but tonight. Can't I just savor this fleeting moment with my Airman? The bitch teases me. If I can make our home perfect, then maybe he'll stay. Maybe Michael won't slowly steal him away from me. I know it's just a pile of horse shit but the notion compels me to obey.

I don't want to disturb him but, the urge to chase after perfection is too overwhelming. I slide away from him. A smile creeps across my face when he mumbles something in his sleep. I won't get any rest tonight. If I smoke up, I won't be able to pass out. But if I don't clean the bitch will never shut up. I start to pick up the chunks of splintered wood from the living room floor. It's easy for the physical remnants of our conflict to be washed away but the emotional scars will never heal. I work through the night. The only sound that can be heard is Trevor's muffled snores coming from the bedroom. By the time dawn has broken, the apartment is nearly perfect. I try to act like every good woman should, at least what I grew up thinking they should be.

I nurse a cigarette while I fry up some eggs. Even after a sleepless night spent meticulously restoring our apartment, I don't feel tired. The earthy smell of the coffee must've stirred Trevor from his slumber. I hear his thundering footsteps as he stumbles into the kitchen. It brings a smile to my face to see his stark naked bottom. Trevor surveys the work I've done. He seems unsurprised with the sight. By now my bullshit is just old news to him. It won't stop him from nagging me though.

"You look like shit," Trevor says.

I take a moment to reflect on how charming he is as he scratches his balls.

"Thank you," I say.

My response seems to please him. He reaches into the cupboard and pulls out a chipped mug.

"What's the fucking occasion?" Trevor asks. "You don't make breakfast very often."

I can feel his cock brushing against my bottom as he maneuvers his way to the coffee maker. This tiny fucking kitchen is too big for the two of us.

"Nothing special, I just couldn't sleep," I explain.

I can hear the sound of Trevor's loud slurps as he downs the cheap coffee. He lingers at my backside. Nothing fucking shocking. I don't want him to leave either.

"You wanna smoke up before we go?" Trevor asks.

Jesus, I'd almost forgotten. I've been so caught up in my bullshit that I forgot why I was a miserable fuck to begin with. I'm more surprised that Trevor is still up for it too. I might be inclined to actually think he does believe in me.

"Not today," I say. "I want my head clear."

He leans in closer to my back. Goose bumps erupt across my flesh as he brushes his lips along the back of my neck. Trevor reaches around and slips his hand down the front of my shirt.

"How about a little something else then?" Trevor whispers.

I turn off the burner. The eggs are still sizzling in the pan before me and I take a final drag from my cigarette. I want him but, there's a greater desire for me to get to work.

"Not until the job's done," I say.

He is more than a little frustrated by my response. It's not that I don't fucking want to. I really do, trust me, but I know I can use all that pent up energy to my advantage today. The bitch whispers to me that I'm an idiot. Go the fuck ahead, you cunt, because today I'm proving you wrong too.

"Get ready," I say. "Make sure you bring your gun too."

"Yes, ma'am," He says giving me a salute.

He downs his coffee and slams the mug onto the counter top. Trevor gives my butt a nice slap before he slinks back off into the bedroom.

"Hey! You better eat some of these fucking eggs!" I holler after him.

I can hear him curse at me as he thunders around the bedroom. I smile only because this is the closest we'll ever be to normal. I make myself a plate of eggs and sit down at the table. As I chew my food, I trace my fingers along the scratches on the table's surface. They won't be the only scars left over from last night. My jaw protests with every bite I take. It feels like it weighs a million goddamn pounds. When Trevor returns, I can see the butt of his gun sticking out of his waistband. He just shovels down the eggs right from the pan and I cringe as he slops them all over his shirt. There will never be a day when he's isn't a pig but if it does ever come, I will surely kill myself.

I head to the bathroom. I've been avoiding this all night but it's time to face the fucking music. When I look in the cracked mirror, I'm not exactly shocked by what I find. The side of my face that Trevor slapped is about three sizes too big and the color of a fucking plum. He wasn't kidding when he said I looked like shit was he? I know there's no point trying to hide this with makeup. What the fuck do I care? I want Michael to see that I can handle this shit. A mangled jaw? That's fucking nothing. Like I can fucking afford to get this shit fixed anyway.

"Hurry up!" Trevor whines. "You look fine! Let's fucking go!"

I smile and wince from the pain that causes. I look like a demented chipmunk and he still can make me feel like a sensual woman with one little comment.

I forget about my battered face as we walk to the phone booth. My hatred continues to simmer as I listen to Trevor make the arrangements with Michael. He nags my Airman to get a phone of our own. Fuck him; he can pay my fucking phone bill if he wants us to have one so bad. He's like a clingy fucking girlfriend. Trevor agrees with that slimy fuck that we need our own proper wheels too. Just more fucking shit Michael wants us to pay for but isn't willing to help us with. As we wait for Michael on the street corner, Trevor grows antsier. Is he just fucking excited to see his butt buddy or is he hiding something?

When Michael pulls up in his slick black sedan, I can see the look of annoyance on his face. Well fuck off you doughy faced prick. I'm here and I ain't going fucking anywhere. He may be the biggest dick in North Yankton but that doesn't carry much weight with the rest of the world. Trevor opens the door for me like the proper fucking gentleman he is. The gesture brings me a deep sense of satisfaction. It proves to me that Michael hasn't dug his claws into Trevor quite deep enough yet. Even when he's not working, Michael still dresses like a cheesy cliché from an action movie. The kid's clean cut and well put together. I'll give him that. I just don't understand how someone who seems to be Trevor's polar opposite can be so drawn to him. Shit, how the fuck is anyone drawn to Trevor?

"Nice to see you again," Michael says.

Jesus, he doesn't even sound the least bit awkward. I can tell by the look in his eye though that he isn't exactly pleased that I've stuck my head into the boy's club.

"Where we headed, M?" Trevor asks.

"That depends, T. I hadn't really expected to have company along today," Michael says.

What the fuck is this horse shit? Fucking T? I lean forward so I'm between the two of them in the front seat.

"Sorry to rain on your fucking parade," I snap. "But I owe you too, if you recall."

Michael slams on the gas and I fall into the back of the car.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen," Michael says.

That little fuck. He knew exactly what he was fucking doing. I stare at his reflection in the rear view mirror. Nothing would bring me more pleasure than to carve that stupid fucking face of his up like a Halloween pumpkin. The grey city scene flies by us as he drives. I don't even give a fuck where we're going anymore I'm so pissed. The car smells of fresh leather and cigarettes. It's so fucking clean that I'm jealous of its perfection.

"What happened to your face?" Michael asks.

I settle into the backseat, arms folded across my chest like a pouty fucking toddler.

"I fell down the stairs," I lie.

Michael and Trevor exchange glances. The grin on Trevor's fucking face is enough to lighten my spirits. Just a little.

"What?" Trevor says sheepishly. "Shit happens, ya know?"

Michael just shakes his head. How dare you fucking judge us you little prick. I bet he isn't even capable of the depth of emotion it takes to maintain a relationship beyond two and half minutes.

"So, mind catching me up on things?" I press.

I just want to change the fucking subject before I deck this snake in his fat fucking face. I hate that I can't see his face clearly. It's just like the first night we met. I'm trapped in the back seat like a set of unwanted luggage. It takes him a bit longer to respond than it should. I can tell Michael doesn't want to share their plans with me. What hurts the most though is Trevor seems hesitant to share too.

"T and I have been checking out the bank just off of F street and 90th," Michael says.

"The Lombank branch?" I ask.

I'm only met with more hesitancy. I could strangle the both of them. Michael lets out a sigh. Finally, I get a glimpse of how he really feels. I already knew but it's nice to have it out in the fucking open.

"I know you and T have never pulled a bank job before," Michael explains. "I'm not sure you're ready for it."

I know he's only referring to me. Why the fuck is it that Trevor can walk on fucking water but I'm just the world's biggest fuck up? Yeah, I'm not a genius. He didn't exactly catch me at my best at Goldberg's but I've kept us out of prison for the most part. Trevor was the one who got caught. Not fucking me. Yes, that was my fault. He wouldn't have been out if I hadn't been such a bitch. I have to push out that sudden wave of guilt that comes over me.

"We're more than capable of handling ourselves," I say.

Michael laughs. That son of a bitch.

"I hate to break it to you, sweet cakes, but from what I've seen you can't handle shit." Michael says.

I look to Trevor, hoping that he'll pipe in and build me back up. He was more than willing to tell me how great I was last night when I had my lips wrapped around his cock.

"She is good at taking care of the messy bits," Trevor says.

That's it? That's all he fucking has to say? What about all the game I had? What about him believing in me? I can't believe this horse shit. It's as if last night never happened at all.

"Well, all women are good at that," Michael teases. "That's not exactly a special fucking talent."

He's just saying this shit to get me riled up. He's trying to get a rise out of me. I can tell by the way he says it as casually as he fucking can. So he wants me to act like a raving fucking lunatic? He wants me to make a fool of myself? Nice fucking try.

"How about you give me the chance to show you how fucking good I really am?" I say.

"What?" Michael says.

I can hear the shock in his voice. Your plans may have worked out once before, Townley, but I'm not going down without a fucking fight.

"I can understand why you feel the way you do," I lie. "So I figured, why not give you a chance to see me and Trev at work?"

Trevor cackles with excitement. I knew he'd be on board. He'll jump at every and any opportunity to wave a gun in someone's face and cause terror.

"Oh fuck yeah!" Trevor cheers. "You could be the getaway driver, Mikey! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

I pray that Michael is susceptible to peer pressure. He raps his fingers on the steering wheel and I'm ready to win this one. I can feel my anger transforming into a deep sense of pride. I do still have game. Michael is still a challenge and I'm sure he'll get back at me for this later but for now I've got him cornered.

"Alright, alright!" Michael says. "You guys packin' heat?"

"Of course," I say. "I'm always ready."

Trevor cackles with delight. I can't help but laugh too. It's not just this chance to prove Michael wrong that has me so excited. It's been a long fucking time since I've done this. I barely got a taste of it again at Goldberg's. I'm already growing wet with anticipation. It's a bullshit chump job. I know that. Trevor knows that but, I won't be sitting on the sidelines watching from a far like some cripple with a wasting disease. No, I get a piece of the action and to top it all off I get to be a smug fucking cunt because I've proved Michael wrong.

"Where are we headed than?" Michael asks.

I can detect a bit of skepticism in his voice. That's fucking perfect. Go ahead and continue to doubt me you prick. It'll make the end of this that much sweeter.

"There's a remote spot out on highway ninety," I say. "Seems like a good place. "

It's like we're driving to the fucking strip club. Trevor can barely contain his excitement. He chatters on like a kid who's about to get laid for the first time. It brings the biggest fucking smile to my face. I don't even give a fuck that my jaw is throbbing in agony. The bitch whispers to me still though. If I had smoked up before we left I wouldn't have to deal with her. She tries to convince me that I am the fuck up that Michael believes me to be. She reminds me that Trevor won't stick around much longer. I can cling onto this like a child but it will change nothing. I know it's all true but this moment is too intoxicating to let her poisonous words take hold.

As we get close to the gas station, Michael points out the masks he's stashed in his glove box. It's smart to have them on hand; even I'm willing to admit that. I cringe when I pull the scratchy wool mask over my face. The feel of this on my flesh is going to drive me fucking nuts. Trevor's energy seems to be rubbing off on Michael too. That must be why he's so drawn to him. Trevor's an infectious little fuck isn't he, Michael? I doubt he'll turn into a sick twisted fuck like I have but that could be because he already is one. Michael pulls into the gas station. The excitement is practically tangible.

"Make it quick and clean," Michael reminds us.

"Fuck off," I say.

I'm too pumped up for this to give a fuck about his words. The parking lot is empty and I can see the clerk is all alone. Such a pity for him but absolutely fucking perfect for us. It's like God has my back for fucking once. I watch the clerk wipe down the counter with a dirty wash cloth. Trevor pulls his gun out and I follow suit.

"Ready, Momma?" Trevor asks.

I wish I could see the joy on his face right now.

"Let's do this," I say.

We leap out of the car and make a b-line for the front door. Trevor ploughs through the swinging glass doors like a battering ram. The clerk screams like a little bitch and staggers backwards. I can practically hear my pulse pounding in my skull. The strength and fury that radiates from Trevor's voice as he screams at the clerk arouses me. The clerk blubbers and cowers behind the counter. It's my time to fucking shine. I shove the barrel of the gun right against his sweaty, tan forehead. I set my greasy, unwashed, bare hand on his sparkling clean countertop. He's absolutely fucking terrified of me. I feel so fucking powerful. I never want this glorious sensation to go away.

"Give us the fucking cash!" I scream. "I will paint the wall with your brains asshole! Do it!"

He pleads to me in a language I don't fucking understand. He fumbles with the cash register and I can hear the ruffle of the bills as he stuffs the cash into a plastic bag.

"Hurry up!" Trevor roars.

He's shitting his pants right now. It certainly fucking smells like it. The clerk's hands tremble as he hands me the bag of money. The very smell of it, the weight of it in my hands, fills me with a fiery desire. I am on top of the fucking world and nobody can fucking touch me. We run out of the gas station, cackling like maniacs. I can hear the sirens wailing in the distance as we hop into the car. The tires of Michael's car squeal as we tear out of the parking lot. The car is filled with the sound of Trevor's laughter. Watching Michael maneuver the car through traffic reminds me of my true purpose. The adrenaline rush I feel right now has filled me with a new sense of courage. Maybe Michael won't be the down fall of Trevor and I. Maybe this will just be like every other road block we've encountered. We'll get past it and keep on trucking.

Michael loses the cops rather easily. This is something that he's done a million times before. I give no fucks though. I'm so turned on from my performance that I don't care how trivial this might appear to him. I reach over the front seat and toss the sac of cash into his lap.

"How about them fuckin' apples, Townley!" I cackle.


	18. Till the walls are going up

The bitch won't stop whispering to me no matter how much crystal I smoke. It seems like it's gotten worse now. I have more of those poisonous thoughts and they seem to come at a million miles an hour. I'm fucking nuts. There was never a doubt about that in my mind but it just seems like my bullshit is growing worse with every passing day. We lie low for a week or so after the gas station job. It's a pathetic take and I blow my entire cut on drugs. I know it's foolish. But it's alright to act like an idiot when you're nose diving like I am. I should be happy after my minor triumph over Michael but I'm not. It was like a major fucking ice breaker for those too. I guess they hadn't fucking got a chance to work together yet. I regret pulling that job only because of the consequences it wrought. It's Trevor and Michael now. Not me and Trev. He's going to fucking steal him from me I just know it.

I've been a good fucking criminal. I've been playing housewife, hiding in our shitty apartment. Smoking up and wishing that my man wasn't being slowly seduced by that fucking troll. They party, at least that's all I can imagine them doing. He must be hiding money away. Michael must've convinced him to do it. He's probably got him convinced that I'm some succubus out to destroy him. That twisted little fucking snake. Why am I the only one who can see him for who he really is? I just fucking feel it in my bones. He takes Trevor out to bars and drops pretty little blonde bitches in his lap. I fucking know it.

I've scrubbed the counter tops in the kitchen to the point that the cheap vinyl finish is starting to wear through. Everything is perpetually over sanitized in this place. I feel this constant need to get things done. My thoughts are always racing and the bitch is always hissing in the back of my mind. I don't even know what day it is anymore. My mind goes to ugly places all the time now. Trevor's drifting away and I have no one. Aunt Dani is dead and only Christ knows where Kimmy is. Would Kimmy even take me in? I'm barely recognizable anymore. The woman I was seems like a ghost. The only option once Michael steals Trevor from me is to die.

I don't hear him come home. I'm so focused on polishing the knobs of the kitchen faucet that the rest of the world has fallen away. He calls my name a few times before I actually hear it over the bitch's constant nagging. I barely glance up at him. He' wearing that busted fucking leather jacket that he's always refused to throw out. At one point it was brown but now it's such a tattered fucking mess you can barely tell what color it was. Somehow, he still looks perfect. It's obvious he's hiding something. He's got his arms tucked behind his back and a sheepish grin on his face. That utterly enchanting crooked grin that makes me feel like a child every time I see it.

"What?" I say.

I sound too bitchy. Deep down I'm so happy to see him I want to weep but I just can't express that desperation to him. I'm too ashamed to let him see how much I'm going to fall apart when he's gone.

"Hey," Trevor growls. "You better change your fucking tone or I'm just gonna turn around and leave."

I will do anything to keep him away from Michael. I pull away from the sink. A sharp pain travels up my back as I stand up straight. Fuck, I've been working too much lately. I try to act calm but I can't stop fidgeting.

"S-sorry, I just can't get the fucking sink to look right, ya know?" I stammer. "I'm just on edge. That's all. It's not your fault, baby."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Trevor says. "No one cares about that shit except you."

It's true. But it keeps my hands busy. Standing here is agonizing. I start to scratch at my arm. I feel the need to keep my hands scratching and clawing constantly. They do nothing to silence the bitch but the need is too deep to ignore.

"Here," Trevor says. "I got you a little uh—something."

He pulls out the saddest looking bouquet I've ever seen from behind his back. They're wilted, cheap carnations. I'm pretty sure he probably just dug them out of a dumpster. I smile anyway. I wrap my fingers around the plastic and it crinkles beneath my touch. When I bring the drooping yellow blooms to my nose the stench is overwhelmingly noxious.

"Well?" Trevor presses. "Do I get a fucking thank you or are you just gonna stand there?"

I wrap my arm around him and pull him in for a hug. I can't remember how long ago it was that he came home like this. I'm not sure what time it is but usually its dark out when he finally saunters in the door. There's still white light pouring in from the windows. Today must be special. Fuck, I can't remember why.

"I love them, baby," I coo. "I'm just surprised."

He laughs. The way his face lights up when he cackles makes my stomach feel like it's doing flips. I still feel that lingering fear from my confusion. Fuck, if he finds out I forgot what today is he'll flip his shit.

"What?" Trevor asks. "You thought I'd fucking forget or something? I'm a classy guy. I don't forget shit like this. I take care of you, Momma."

The bitch is screaming in my head and I can't push past her torment to figure out what I've forgotten. I'm not even sure what day of the week it is. I've just been cleaning and getting high. It's all such a fucking blur. A hectic, manic fucking blur since the gas station job. He's going to kill me. Jesus, is it our anniversary? Did I forget our anniversary? Michael might as well just come here and pack his bags right now.

"Whoa, calm down," Trevor says. "You look like someone just took a shit in your coffee."

Jesus, I can't get a hold of myself like I used to. I can feel the sweat beading up on my forehead. I can feel the tingling in my chest of the impending panic attack.

"D-don't be mad at me, Trev," I beg. "Please don't fucking be mad. I've been high as fuck and I just don't have a fucking clue what day it even is. I'll do anything, I promise, I'll make this up to you. I won't—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Trevor barks.

I fall silent. Even when he just shakes his head and laughs, I still feel the fear lingering in my gut. His shout was enough to stop the panic attack from taking hold.

"Would you fucking be cool?" Trevor laughs.

I'm shaking like a leaf. I can't be fucking cool right now. I'm just fucking up even more. He grabs me by the hands. The way his eyes sparkle when he smiles makes me want to cry.

"It's your fucking birthday, you dumb cow," Trevor says.

A giggle sneaks up from within me and I feel a smile spread across my face. I want to cry because I'm so relieved but, I'm too hyped up to give the tears a chance to fall. I'm overcome by the torrent of joy that his revelation brings me. Christ, he still remembers petty shit like this. Even with Michael digging his claws into him, Trevor still comes shining through.

"Shit—" I say.

"Yeah, I told Michael I needed to take off—he told me to get the flowers," Trevor says.

He's beaming at the very mention of that fat snake's name. God damn it. I hate these things now. That must be why they stink so fucking bad. I try to mask the disgust on my face. This is just another of Michael's tricks. He's just pretending to support our relationship. I'm smart enough to know better even if Trevor doesn't.

"So, I've got some plans for us," Trevor says.

Fuck, the grin on his face is enough to make me forget about Michael fucking Townley.

"Do you?" I ask.

I'm certainly fucking intrigued. Trevor has had his romantic moments but he's never been particularly elaborate or considerate. But I'm more than fucking willing to see what he has in store for me.

"Go draw yourself a bath," Trevor coos. "Then pretty yourself up, Michael let me borrow his car. I'm taking you out."

Fuck, a date? I can't remember the last time we went on an actual fucking date. I hate fucking taking baths. I'm not exactly a fucking Amazonian princess, I'm actually pretty fucking short, but I barely can squeeze into this thing. I draw the water for the bath. The white steam billows up into the air and I dip my fingers into the scalding water. I can see his blurry figure in to fogged up mirror and I can't help but smile. There's more to this bath than he let on.

Even if I wasn't high on crystal, I'd still be horny as fuck right now. I love the feeling of him watching me as I undress. He's the only man that's ever made me feel beautiful. When I turn off the water, the only sound I can hear echoing off of the bathroom walls is his heavy breaths. I climb into the white tub. The water sloshes around my body and I let out a gasp from the intense heat. I live for the sharp, tingling pain that the extreme temperature brings. It reminds me that I'm alive. It's not the same high I get from causing chaos with Trevor but it's the closest I can get without committing a crime. Our eyes meet while I lay in the murky water. He draws his teeth across his bottom lip and sticks his tattooed hand down his trousers. Strands of his thinning, brown hair are already sticking to his damp forehead. The harsh angles of Trevor's face seem to light up from the flush of arousal. I watch the bulge in his pants grow and I can't contain myself anymore.

The scabs that riddle my flesh sting in the hot water but it's a meaningless sensation in the wake of my growing excitement. I slide my hand down between my legs and Trevor lets out a satisfied cackle. He pulls his hand out of his pants. His eyes are full of a devious fire. He saunters over to the tub and I watch his jeans straining against his raging erection. He leans next to the tub. Sweat is dripping down his red face. The humidity of the room has his stained t-shirt clinging to his muscles in the best kind of way. Trevor's brown eyes are locked on mine. He cracks that crooked grin and runs his finger tips along the flesh of my arm all the way down to my wrist.

The muscles of his forearm brush against my inner thigh and I let out a gasp. He closes his hand over mine and pulls it away from between my legs.

"Let me give you a hand, Momma," Trevor growls.

I can't find the words. I just nod. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I feel his fingers slip inside of me. When he touches me, the bitch finally falls silent. I can forget about Michael Townley and our inevitable destructive end. He speaks to me in French. It's something he hasn't done since that steamy reunion we had after our break up in Canada. He cackles with delight every time I buck beneath his touch. It seems like I finish too soon. He laughs at me, not because he finds me funny, it's just the pleasure he derives from the act he's just committed. I laugh too. I watch him towel off his arm and he's grinning like the fucking devil he is.

"Get dressed," He says.

I'm trying to catch my breath, my arms are draped across the slick surface of the bathtub rim, and I can still feel the muscles in my groin twitching involuntarily.

"You're pretty fucking bossy considering it's my fucking birthday," I tease.

He tries to readjust his pants. Trevor still has a massive hard on and I'm honestly surprised he's not interested in taking care of it.

"Hey!" Trevor snaps. "If you keep up the bitching I can remind you how fucking old you are! I know you don't want that shit!"

No, I don't fucking want to think about how old I am.

"Alright," I sigh.

He won't give me the slightest hint as to where we're going. I pick out a nice outfit and he just shakes his head. He turns down every choice I make until he's settled on a stained set of sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. It's not the craziest fucking thing he's had me do but it's got me utterly confused. I give up on trying to pry the information out of him. He won't tell me until we're there. As we walk out to Michael's car, the bitch whispers to me. How many more nights like this will we have? I better relish this fucking moment because he could be gone in the morning. Michael's got his sticky hands into this precious moment too. This is his slick ass car, how much of this was his idea? He's just trying to fuck with you in all the ways that will make you hurt the most.

Trevor opens the passenger door for me and I feel like I could burst into tears. I climb into the car. It stinks of cigarettes and cheap air fresheners. I can see something lying in the back seat, wrapped in a white plastic bag. When Trevor catches me glancing back there he snaps his fingers and scolds me. I should be pissed at him for talking to me like that but I'm too wrapped up in the splendor of all this. He's got another surprise for me. He's put so much effort into all of this. I forgot about this day, but he's been keeping this day in mind for quite some fucking time. At least that's how it fucking seems. Knowing him though he just remembered this morning and Michael just helped him with the scheming. I hate the concept of Michael's hand in all this but I can't deny how much I'm loving it.

The city lights come on around us as the sky shifts from shades of teal to black. I start to nod off as he drives us off into the country. Any sane person would never fall asleep in a car with Trevor Philips as he heads off into the wilderness. I'm not a sane person though. If he decided to hit me over the head with a shovel and leave me in the woods to die I'd be perfectly fucking content. My dreams are haunted by Michael Townley and the bitch's horrible nagging. When Trevor shakes me to wake up, I feel exhausted. My eyes feel heavy and I've got a raging case of cotton mouth.

"We're here," Trevor tells me.

I shift in the seat and look around. When I gaze out the window, I get a sinking sensation in my gut. I know this place. I knew we lived only an hour or so away but being here again feels surreal. We're in that same shitty town where it all started. Where I lived for so many years. The asshole of North Yankton. It's the dive bar where we met. My nose is practically glued to the fucking window. The mix of emotions I'm feeling is hard to deal with. I want to cry, I want to laugh; and I feel grateful that we're not here anymore.

"Seriously?" I manage to say.

His silver grin is like a beacon in the darkness.

"Go inside," Trevor says.

I open my mouth to speak but he presses his finger to my lips.

"Go inside," Trevor repeats.

I get out of the car. I feel like a zombie, blindly following his orders. Walking across the parking lot is like going through a time warp. What gave him this idea? Our end is so fucking near and he takes me right back to the beginning? Why do I feel so fucking sad? I can barely remember living every day in this shitty podunk town. Where we're at now, it's not exactly glamorous, but this place makes it fucking look like Vinewood Boulevard. I was angry that we ended up back in North Yankton after we left Canada, especially being so close to this fucking place. That anger seems so petty to me now. I'll never escape this goddamn state there's no point being upset about it. I walk through the creaky door of the bar. It's still filled with the same shitty people, they just have different faces. If there's anyone here I know, they don't recognize me anymore. I'm covered with a new set of scars and a nice new crooked nose. It's still swollen and discolored too. I probably look like a complete fucking disaster just walked in.

I watch the people watch me. Their whispers ring in my ears and feed the bitch's paranoia. I feel so fucking uncomfortable. This is the last fucking place I want to be. What the fuck was he thinking? Why the fuck did he think I would want to come here for my birthday? This shithole just reminds me of how fucking old I am and how much of a fucking failure I've become. I pick out a corner spot at the counter and order a drink. I'm feeling a bit on edge now that the crystal is starting to wear off. That shit is going to fucking kill me if Trevor doesn't first. The last time I was here, it wouldn't have taken much to have me on the floor. Now, I can probably drink this entire bar under the fucking table.

I'm hyper sensitive to the surroundings. It feels like everyone is watching me, judging me. Where the fuck are you Trevor? I don't want to fucking be here. I down my drink and order another. I wish alcohol still had the same effect on me. It would make this so much easier to deal with. I hear the bar door creak open again and whirl around to get a good luck. My heart feels like it's crawled up my throat. I'm so desperate for it to be Trevor and for this awkward situation to come to an end. My jaw drops when I see him.

Trevor's wearing a very ill fitting Air Force uniform. The olive drabs look like they belonged to someone that was a size smaller than him. He must've dug those fuckers up at a thrift shop. The shirt is pulled tight across his chest and the seams around his shoulders are stretched to the breaking point. His hair is combed, it barely makes a difference with his wild mane but I can still tell he made the effort. If I thought I was in a time warp before, I certainly fucking feel like it now. He walks with that same swagger he had all those years ago. He tugs on the fabric by his crotch as he comes to me. His brow is furrowed in frustration. It seems like he didn't expect this to fit him so badly.

He leans against the bar counter and flashes me that perfect crooked grin. I can already feel my bottom lip starting to tremble. I can't fucking cry. Not here, not in front of all these fuckwads.

"So—" Trevor says. "There's nobody to kick out of my seat this time."

I giggle like a teenage girl. It's a weak sound; I doubt he can hear it over the background noise of the bar. I cling to the humor in the moment. If I don't I'm going to lose my shit right fucking here.

"You know it's a crime to impersonate a serviceman," I tease.

He growls and leans in close to me. I can feel his breath on my ear lobe and it's enough of a sensation to send me over the edge. I let out a gasp and have to cover my mouth to hold back the sob that's trying to escape.

"We've done much worse," Trevor whispers. "Now, let's start this over."

He pulls away and adjusts his shirt again. Seeing him like this again is too much. He's still that strapping young Airman. Not a fucking thing has changed. How can he still be the same person and I've become a fucking monster?

"So-Airman Philips," I say.

I choke on the words. I'm smiling so much my cheeks fucking hurt. I still remember. Even after all the shit we've been through. Even after all these years. I still remember the night we met as vividly as if it happened five minutes ago. I may look a hell of a lot worse than I did back then but I've never felt more beautiful in my entire life. Does he remember it too? Was that night just as important for him?

"Don't call me Airman," Trevor says. "I'm not on fucking duty and you're not an officer."

My hands shake as I grip onto the chipped glass. The golden liquid sloshes within the container as I set it down on the counter.

"T-take a seat," I stammer.

I feel like with every word I utter, it's harder for me to hold in the tidal wave of emotions that have overcome me. He hops up onto the bar stool and hunches over the filthy counter.

"The name's Trevor," He says.

I remember how I felt like that name didn't suit him. Now, I can't imagine calling him anything else. By the look on his face, I can tell he just finds this to be another weird sex game. He doesn't even seem to care that I'm falling to pieces right in front of him because I'm so overwhelmed with the romance of it all.

"Well, Trevor," I say. "You haven't given anyone else the chance to open the gates to my rank vagina."

I don't know how I managed to get that out. I reach across the counter and lace my fingers around his hand.

"That's because none of these other bitches are my type," Trevor says. "I want you all for myself. I'm not letting anybody else near you."

I can't fight it anymore. I let the tears well up in my eyes. I didn't think it was possible to feel this much happiness.

"I'm your type then?" I choke.

Trevor lets out a cackle. It's so loud that it draws stares from the other bar flies. I wish I didn't care. I hate them all and I haven't even met them but I'm too paranoid now to shrug people off.

"You could be," Trevor teases.

"I've been bored all night, Trevor, but not right now," I say.

I'm gripping his hand so tightly that I'm worried I might be hurting him. He doesn't even flinch.

"What do you do for a living?" Trevor asks.

I laugh enough that I feel some of my tears escaping out of the corner of my eyes.

"Depends," I say. "I rob liquor stores with my boyfriend on Tuesdays and on Fridays I turn tricks."

That bout of laughter from him draws even more attention to us. The entire bar counter shakes as he howls with delight. The bartender looks less than pleased by the situation. He probably thinks we're drug addicts or homeless. That honestly wouldn't be too far from the truth.

"Aren't you a little old for that type of shit?" Trevor teases.

"Fuck you," I say.

Trevor snickers.

"That part doesn't come until later, remember?" Trevor says.

I take the last swig from my drink and slam the glass on the counter. I can feel that old familiar confidence sneaking back in.

"Can't we just skip to that bit?" I press. "I ask if you have a roommate, you take me to your car-"

He grabs me by the neck and pulls me in for a kiss. His mouth tastes just the same as it did that night. Like cigarettes and gas station burritos. I can feel his saliva sticking to my lips and I can hear his hungry grunts rattling up his throat. I run my fingers through his greasy hair. Trevor closes his hand over my breast and I tug on his collar to draw him even closer to me.

"Hey!" The bartender shouts. "Knock that shit off or get the fuck out!"

Trevor tears himself off of me and whirls around.

He slams his fist on the counter and roars, "Could you shut the fuck up!? I'm having a fucking moment here with my woman!"

I can't help but laugh. The bartender's face turns bright red and he's huffing like a pissed off powerless house wife.

"Get the fuck out of my bar or I'm calling the cops!"

That oily fuck has no idea what kind of beast he just unleashed. Trevor climbs over the counter with the quickness of a panther. I cackle as I watch the bartender back away from my infuriated boyfriend. Trevor snatches up a bottle of vodka from the liquor shelf with that beautiful crooked grin plastered on his face. The other bar goers are gasping in fear and shouting protests. It's pointless. Trevor charges the bartender. The vodka bottle smashes into a thousand pieces over his shiny round head. The bartender staggers backwards, blood streaming down his glossy head. Trevor grabs him by the shirt and starts slamming his fists into the bartender's red face.

"Don't—fucking—tell—me—what—to—do!" Trevor roars as he pounds the living shit out of the poor bastard.

I'm howling with delight. A group of men start shouting at Trevor. He starts screaming right back at them. He loosens his grip and the bartender falls to the sticky floor in a bloody heap. All of these fuckers look like a fucking joke. By themselves, I wouldn't even bat an eye but, in a group like this they could really fuck my Airman up. The broad, mustachioed one grabs Trevor and tries to pull him over the counter top. He kicks and squirms out of his grasp but tumbles onto the bar floor. They dog pile him before he can get a chance to get back on his feet. No fucking way. Over painted skanks run screaming out of the bar. I can hear Trevor's rage filled shouts as he struggles with the three men that are overpowering him.

The adrenaline rush makes it feel like my veins are on fire. I run up behind one of Trevor's attackers. I reach for the half empty pitcher of beer sitting on the nearby table. I see Trevor's blood splattered face peak out from the mass of sweaty man bodies. His uniform is in shambles from the fight. I bring the pitcher down on one of the bastard's head. The thick chunks of glass go flying everywhere. His mullet is dripping with cheap beer. I expect him to black out from my attack but holy shit was I wrong. He spins around and grabs me by the throat.

It's enough of a relief for Trevor to gain control of the situation again. I start to cackle and I relish the sight of the redneck's face contorting in confusion. Trevor knees the mustachioed bastard in the nuts and he falls to the ground, groaning in pain. The horror that's plastered on the other asshole's face makes me feel like a goddess. It's the most delectable fucking scene that's playing out right now. The redneck pushes me away and I slam into the rickety table behind me. I leap onto his back and start slamming my fists in the back of his head. Trevor kicks the man writhing in pain on the floor over and over again. I catch a glimpse of Trevor's fiery eyes and he grins.

The redneck struggles to shake me off of his back, but I've got a nice fucking grip on him. Their friend is cowering over the bloody mustachioed mess lying in the middle of the floor. The pure terror in his eyes is enough to make me cream my panties right fucking here. Trevor grabs the redneck and head butts him. He cackles with delight as the bastard's legs give out and he crashes to the floor. He falls backwards and pins me to the bar floor. I squirm and curse as I try to get out from under him. Trevor growls and yanks the son of a bitch off of me. We start wailing on him without even the slightest shred of mercy. The feeling this attack gives me is glorious. The bitch has nothing to say now. We don't stop beating the redneck until he finally stops screaming.

Trevor spits a bloody chunk of saliva onto our victim. My Airman cackles as he wipes the blood away from his lips. My heart is pounding and my chest still tingles from the excitement of all this chaos. I glance over at the last sad, little fuck, cowering in the corner. I exchange a glance with Trevor as if to ask him if we're done yet. When Trevor starts to laugh I have my answer. Glass crunches beneath Trevor's feet as we make our way over to the coward. Splintered wood, beer and blood coat the bar's floors. It's a fucking disaster in here. They're going to have quite the fucking mess to clean up after we're gone. Trevor hefts up the coward by the collar and pins him against the wall.

"Please—oh my god, please, don't hurt me!" He begs.

Trevor flashes me that crooked grin. The violence has already flooded my body with arousal but his grin is too much for me. I can't help but quake with anticipation. The coward blubbers and trembles beneath Trevor's relentless grasp.

"Well, birthday girl," Trevor growls. "He's all yours."

Fuck him. I'm too horny to give a fuck about this little fucking worm. We've had our fun. I want something else now. Seeing Trevor like this has me hungry for his touch. His hair is a mess; his uniform is torn and stained with blood. His battered face still possesses a divine quality that takes my breath away.

I tug on Trevor's sleeve and pull him away from the coward. The little fuck slides to the floor and sobs hysterically. I lead Trevor out of the bar. He seems reluctant to turn away from the opportunity but he recognizes this look in my eye. He knows what I want. I drag him all the way out the bar. The creak of the door drowns out the cries of the sniveling coward. The cool night air makes my skin tingle. The sound of Trevor's tired breaths behind me only makes my desire grow. I can't wait. I need him now.

I push him onto the hood of Michael's car. Oh fuck yes. The concept of smearing blood and cum all over Townley's ride fills me with a childish excitement. I straddle Trevor and start to snicker. He's laughing too and his hands slide up the trunk of my body, coming to rest on my tits.

"You're a twisted fucking bitch, you know that?" Trevor says.

I grab him by the hair and place my lips over his. As our tongues tangle together, I can taste the blood in his mouth. I grind my hips against his until I can't bare the heat of arousal anymore. I ride his cock on the hood of Townley's car like a fucking animal. I am completely fucking insane. The devil is making up a special circle in hell just for me and I don't care. I'm the epitome of evil. I am the scum of the earth. I am a twisted sack of shit that should've been put down long ago before I could wreak so much destruction on the world. I am a disgusting fucking human being but so is he and I love him.

The world won't let us keep going like this. They'll catch one of us and strike us down. Nature has a way of cutting down the demons before they've destroyed the world. I already know my time is coming to an end. Trevor's too young to look that far into the future, even if it's just around the corner. He spills his seed inside of me and I hold on to that precious release as if my life depends on it. Our love is too hideous to survive. It's not meant to create anything beautiful and that's why it has to come to an end.


	19. In smoke with all our memories

The memory of my birthday seems like its a million miles away now. As we sit in this filthy diner, I can sense nothing but disdain from Trevor. I fixate my gaze on the empty seat across the table from us. Michael's tiny, puckered asshole will be occupying the torn, red leather in a few minutes. I'm not supposed to be here. Trevor and I fought like rabid wolves this morning. My presence here was the result of that confrontation. This place is so revolting. At every turn the bitch is screaming in my head. The windows are caked with some transparent yellow muck. The black and white tile floor is sticky and cracked. It stinks of sour milk and sewage. I can see streaks on the table from where the bus boy wiped it down with a dirty washcloth. I feel like the diner's walls are going to swallow me alive.

The bitch's protests are like an unholy symphony in my head. My hands are tucked under the table. I'm running my jagged nails across my arm. I can feel the tiny streams of blood oozing out of my wounds and rolling across my flesh. I can't even feel the pain anymore. I never feel fucking clean anymore either. It feels like I'm always covered in dirt. No matter how much I scratch and pick I'm never fucking clean enough. It's all too much for me anymore. It's all Townley's fault. He's the one doing this shit to me. He's trying to make me look crazy so Trevor will leave. It's fucking working too.

I reach over and rest my hand on Trevor's. He yanks it away from me. It's a gesture that wounds me deeply. We wouldn't have fought this morning if it hadn't been for Michael. After my birthday, I saw Trevor even less. As much as I pried, he just wouldn't fucking tell me what was going on. Then last night, he comes home with a briefcase full of cash. They pulled the fucking job without me. I should've seen this coming. I'm smarter than this. How could I let this shit get by me? I feel the rage beginning to flicker again within me. I'm hurt. Trevor's been lying to me again. I always knew he pulled that shit but having it thrown in my face like this is too much.

I watch him take a drag from his cigarette. He's angled away from me. I'm amazed he's even sitting next to me. It hurts to see him like this. I feel like I'm being vivisected. The harder I try to cling onto Trevor the more I feel him slipping away. I'm a bitch for dragging this out. I know the end is nigh. There's no stopping this train wreck now. I should just walk away before it gets too ugly. Fuck, there's been a thousand times in the past that I knew I should've walked away. I didn't fucking do it then and I sure as hell won't do it now. I love him too fucking much to let him go. It will take an act of God to tear me away from him. Most likely it'll be a bullet in my brain that'll do it though.

The yellow light of the diner makes him look so sickly. I know I'm not helping with that. I've been riding his ass so hard. I need to know every waking moment where he is. Of course, he doesn't tell me shit. He just calls me a nasty name and leaves me alone in the apartment. He's been giving me shit about my little meth habit too. Trevor of all the fucking people to give me shit for that. I'm willing to admit it's gotten a tad out of hand but it's not like I get to rob banks with the boys anymore. I just sit at home all day like a useless sac of shit.

I'm jealous of Michael. I wasn't able to admit that this morning during the fight but he certainly knows. That's why we're fucking here. I want to hash things out with Michael. Call him out on his shit. Trevor tells me I'm insane. I'm a paranoid cunt who has a head full of horse shit. I just don't understand how he can't see it. I've given up on trying to talk any sense into him. Doing it here in public isn't exactly a brilliant idea either. Fuck, meeting with Michael in public was a terrible idea too. I'm guessing that's why the slick punk suggested it. Michael could've come to our place but he's too fucking chicken shit. That's why he wanted to meet out here. The only thing that'll keep me in check is the fear that the cops will fucking get called. I honestly give no fucks what any of the shit heads in this diner think of me. I know the only reason Trevor finally agreed to this was to get me to shut the fuck up. That's all I am to him anymore. I'm not his lover, I'm a burden.

Trevor perks up and I know Michael's sorry ass has finally shown up to the party. He smiles and waves, its awkward enough that I know this is the last fucking place Michael wants to be. Just the sight of that leather clad grease ball makes me feel filthy. He seems revolted by the sight of me too. Fuck off, Michael, like I give two fucks what your manipulative ass thinks of me. He slides into the empty booth. His beady eyes dart around the diner. The troll doesn't like crawling out from under his bridge does he?

"Trevor," Michael says.

Of course he doesn't bother to greet me. I'm just the queen fucking bitch.

"Mikey, would you mind talking some sense to this crazy bitch?" Trevor growls.

I shoot Trevor a dirty look. I know I'm fucking crazy but I don't need him talking to me like that. I know I'm right about Michael.

"You can fuck off with that bullshit," I snap. "I'm—"

"Whoa now!" Michael says. "I'm not here to settle whatever fucking domestic disturbance you two have going on. So, could we please chill the fuck out?"

Trevor just growls. He still refuses to fucking look at me.

"Really?" I hiss. "So what exactly did Trevor fucking tell you this little meet up was about?"

Michael cracks his neck and the popping sound only reminds me of how desperately I want to snap every bone in his body.

"Look, we shouldn't even be here right now. Not together like this. We need to be lying low," Michael says. "Do you realize how stupid this is? Now, Trevor's a good friend of mine. So I'm here. What the hell is going on?"

Good friend? Fuck off, Michael. If you were a good friend you wouldn't be slowly dismantling our relationship. He just wants Trevor all for his fucking self. It sickens me that he's strutting around like this. Claiming he's got Trevor's best interests at heart. Like he gives a fuck about Trevor. If he really gave a shit he would leave us the fuck alone.

"Go ahead," Trevor snaps. "Go on and tell him the same crazy bullshit you told me this morning."

Trevor's brown eyes fall on me for the first time since we fought. It's just for a split second and all I can see in those eyes is a burning hatred. It's all directed at me too. Sitting here right now, I feel like a fucking idiot. Even if I'm right about Michael it's not like he's going to fucking own up to anything. He'll just find some slippery slick fucking way to make me look stupid. I can't fucking win. I know that by now. I know I will never be able to fucking out smart Michael. He's got more game than me. The only thing I have going for me is that Trevor Philips is the only fucking human being on this earth that I want. That's fucking conviction right there. And if Townley really wants Trevor as badly as I do than I'm completely fucked.

"What? You got nothing to fucking say now?" Trevor seethes." "You had a hell of a lot of shit to say earlier."

Michael reaches across the table and pats Trevor's arm. Son of bitch. I know better. He's not really fucking concerned. He can sit there and make those puppy dog eyes all he fucking wants. Trevor just eats that shit up though.

"Calm down, T," Michael says. "We're all adults here. Let's fucking act like it."

Oh please. I roll my eyes. I can't fucking help it.

"Shut the fuck up, Michael," I snap. "We all know you're full of shit."

Jesus, the look on his face when I say that. Those fucking rat eyes of his are as wide as saucers. I can't help but fucking snicker. Go ahead, act fucking surprised Michael. I'm not falling for your shit.

"I'm sorry?" Michael says.

I lean across the table and get right in his fat fucking face. I let the hatred just fucking pour right out of me and it feels so goddamn good.

"Stop the fucking games, Mikey," I say. "You're trying to break me and Trevor up. Don't fucking lie. You know it's true. I know that when I'm not around you sit there and spread lies about me. You're poisoning Trevor with your shit. I'm not gonna put up with it anymore either. Own up to it Michael. You just want me out of the picture so you can get Trevor to do whatever the fuck you want him too."

The confused expression on Michael's face just makes me all the angrier. Trevor's clenching his fists so tightly that his tattooed knuckles are turning white. I'm sure he'll hit me before this confrontation is over.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Michael says.

My face flushes with anger.

"Don't play dumb!" I snap. "You think I'm a stupid, crazy whore and you never wanted to pull a job with me! You convinced Trevor that I'm useless! You're trying to cut me out! You told him I was incompetent! You can keep trying to get rid of me but I'm wise to your fucking game, Townley!"

Michael just starts fucking laughing at me. He leans back in his seat. The leather squeaks beneath his shifting weight. He just shakes his head. How fucking dare he laugh at me.

"Wow," Michael says. "Just fucking wow."

I look to Trevor, hoping somehow that he'll jump in and back me up. Even though he's sitting right next to me, he might as well be a thousand miles away. His gaze is just fixed to a spot across the diner. I'm all alone in this.

"Look—uh—I'm aware you don't like me. We didn't exactly start off in the best place.," Michael says. "Yeah, at first I didn't think you had much going for you. After that gas station job though, I had a lot of respect for you. But this shit is all in your head. First of all, I don't fucking know you well enough to even talk about you for more than five minutes with Trevor. I don't know where you got these ideas in your head but I'm not trying to break you up. I'm not trying to take Trevor away from anybody. I try to stay the fuck out of your business, honestly."

Lies. It's all fucking lies. I just know it in my gut. I can't be wrong about this. I feel just disgusted with him. I knew this would happen though. I knew he wasn't going to own up to anything.

"I mean, am I right, Trevor?" Michael says. "Have I ever said anything bad about her?"

Trevor wraps his fingers around his mug of coffee. He clenches it so tightly that I can hear the ceramic cup cracking beneath his touch.

"It's true, Momma," Trevor says.

He still won't look at me but, he's staring at Michael. His eyes are almost pleading with him. I don't know if I should believe Trevor. Michael's probably put him up to this. They've discussed this already. Fucking hell. I should've known. Michael's already got Trevor in his pocket.

"Yeah, well, Trevor would never keep me out of the loop. It was your idea that I was kept out of this fucking bank job." I say. "Trevor would've wanted me there. He knows I can handle myself."

I watch Michael's eyes dart between me and Trevor. He lets out a sigh and rubs his temples.

"What?" I press.

Michael takes a deep breath and shakes his head back and forth. Trevor has gone rigid next to me. I can hear his angry breaths rattling through his flared nostrils.

"I was cool with you pulling the bank job with us," Michael says. "Trevor's the one who talked me out of bringing you along."

He's so full of shit. It makes me sick. Trevor would never do that. He would never fucking do that.

"Aww, c'mon!" Trevor groans. "Michael way to throw me under the fucking bus!"

Trevor slams the coffee cup down on the table. The jarring sound draws stares. Michael practically shrinks into the leather seat. I don't care anymore about the world around me. I could hear the guilt in Trevor's voice. I'm too fucking late. Michael had him turned against me long ago. There was no avoiding it. I lost this battle before I even started to fight. I can't swallow this though.

I can't swallow that Trevor was the one who pushed to keep me out of things. It has to be Michael. It has to be him. There's no way. Trevor loves me. He said he'd love me forever. Michael seems too panicked by the attention we've drawn to care about the mess he's created.

"Hey," Michael coos. "Why don't I take you guys home? This isn't the place to talk about this stuff. You deserve a nice, safe, private place. You guys should be alone so you can work all this out."

I can literally feel the bile creeping up my throat as he speaks. His voice sounds so fucking sympathetic. I can't believe this thing that's sitting across from me. How dare he pretend to be our friend? Nothing is sacred to him. He has no morals. He's just faking all of this. Trevor won't listen to this fluffy bullshit. That's not him. That's not what he does.

It's exactly what he fucking does though. I want to smash in every window in Townley's perfect fucking car. Trevor just listens to every word that pours out of that snake's mouth. He laps up all the bull shit like its fucking honey from Aphrodite's tit. This is how it's supposed to be between him and me, not fucking him and Michael. I'm the one who's supposed to keep him calm. I'm the one who defuses situations. The car ride is the most painful experience of my life. Michael tries to make casual fucking conversation as if we're just getting home from a fucking lunch date. I can see the fear lingering in his words though. Every mannerism and forced laugh speak a thousand words. He's fucking scared.

What fucking reason does Michael have to be scared? He's won this game. Why does he bother to carry on my torture? Is he afraid that he's been fucking found out? Well then fucking run away. As soon as he leaves, all my problems are solved. I'm the one who should be scared. I'm just so full of anger and hatred that I don't have time to be scared. The bitch keeps whispering to me. She says all the things to me that I already know are true. I welcome her ramblings. I let them feed my rage so it can only empower me. I will not lose Trevor over this. I fucking refuse to. Maybe if I can just hang on long enough, maybe he'll stay.

Michael pulls into the parking lot of our shitty apartment building. Trevor doesn't seem pleased at all that the car ride is over. Michael leans over the seat. If I wasn't so fucking smart, I would actually believe that he gave a shit by the look on his face.

"Give me a call later, okay?" Michael pleads. "Get your shit sorted out guys, nobody has time for this crap."

Oh fucking please. I can't stand to spend another minute around him. I can't even look that bastard in the eye. He can pretend all he fucking wants that he gives a shit. The tone of his voice could be enough to convince any stupid cunt walking down the street. Not fucking me. Nobody can fucking fool me. I just climb out of the car. I can't help but grin when I slam the car door right in Townley's face. Trevor seems to linger in the car. I watch him and Michael exchange a few words. Jesus, why doesn't Michael just stick his dick in Trevor' s back side and be done with it? I glare at Michael until Trevor crawls out of the car.

How can he call himself Trevor's friend after he tried to pass the buck like that? Blaming Trevor for keeping me in the dark, instead of owning up to it like a real man. As we walk up the stairs to our apartment, I can feel the growing tension between Trevor and I. This is going to be fucking ugly. I can't give up though. I have to convince him that Michael's a fraud. It'll be easier now. I mean Michael betrayed him back there at the diner. Trevor fumbles with the keys because he's so angry. He curses beneath his breath when the door finally swings open. I already feel a bit twitchy. I'm ready for more crystal. Maybe if we smoke up together this conversation will go a little easier. I jump when Trevor slams the door behind us. He smashes his fist into the wall and punches a hole clear through the sheet rock.

"What's the deal?" I press.

"Shut up," Trevor says.

He leans against the wall, his broad back facing me. I feel bad seeing him like this. He's hunched over like a teenager who was caught jerking off in the bathroom. He doesn't realize that he had nothing to be angry about. He's done nothing wrong. He just fell into Michael's trap. I don't hate him for it. I go over to him and start tracing my fingers along his shoulders. He doesn't seem to react. It's as if I'm not even there.

"Baby," I coo. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean what you said at the diner. I know you'd never say anything bad about me. Michael put you up to that didn't he? It's okay. I know. Why don't we go smoke up? Then I can suck you off? Doesn't that sound nice? Let's just forget about Michael. We don't ever have to talk to him again. He can't fill your head with those lies anymore. I won't let him-"

Trevor whips his arm back and elbows me in the face. I crash into the floor with a grunt.

"Shut the fuck up, you crazy goddamn bitch!" Trevor roars.

I gasp for breath. I can feel the blood pouring out of my nose. I spit out my two front teeth and the metallic taste of blood lingers on my tongue. I can barely get my limbs to obey me. The room around me is spinning and my head feels like it's barely attached to my neck. Trevor grabs me by the hair and yanks me backwards. I cough as I choke on my own blood. His face is a dark shade of red and his brow is twitching wildly. I try to get away from him but it's all in vain. He draws his arm back. I stare at his balled up fist and then close my eyes. I know what's coming.

He keeps me pinned to the floor. His knee is pressing into to my stomach and it feels like my organs are going to be squeezed right fucking out of me. He slams his fist into my face and my ears fill with the sound of the bones being crushed.

"You're a fucking junkie!" Trevor screams. "You're a paranoid crazy fucking cunt! I fucking said that shit! I fucking said that shit because I hate you! You're nothing but a piece of dog shit stuck to the bottom of my fucking boot! Don't you fucking get it!? You're fucking crazy! You're a crazy, dried up old fucking junkie and I fucking hate every single fucking thing about you!"

As he slams his fist into my face over and over, my vision starts to go black. All I can hear is the hate filled words pouring out of his mouth as he turns my face into a pulpy mess. This is it. This is how I'm going to die. My Airman is going to murder me right here. I'm going to die on the floor like a bug. If feels like I fall into a pool of thick, black liquid. Everything around me is muffled. I feel no pain. I'm not sure how long I lie in that abyss. It's a dreamless void. The bitch is silent. It's a place empty of thought or heartbreak.

It takes me a while to realize I'm not dreaming. I can barely see. Every inch of my body is screaming in agony. I feel a sharp pain in my chest every time I take in a breath. I try to lift my head away from the dusty floor but my skin is glued to the surface by the dried up pool of blood beneath my cranium. My mouth is bone dry. That's the only indication I have of how much time has passed. I feel desperate for water and my head is throbbing. The apartment is silent just like the void I was lost in. Even if Trevor was here, I don't think I'd be able to see him.

It occurs to me that my eyes must be swollen as fuck. My legs quiver as I try to get back to my feet. Trying to stand proves to be too much. I crawl across the floor like an animal. I feel the scratchy, hard fabric of the couch with my fingertips. I grope along the surface like a blind woman. It takes me too long to climb up onto the couch. It seems like every inch I lift myself up only unleashes a whole new level of suffering. I think I have a few broken ribs. God knows what's happened to my face. When I finally make it onto the couch, I let out loud heavy breaths. My hair is crusty from the blood that soaked into the strands and dried up.

My first instinct is to call out Trevor's name but I already know he's gone. I remember what he said to me. I remember every single word of it. I feel nothing. I expected myself to cry. I expected to feel something. Anything. All I feel is this numb sense of calm that's engulfing me. That could just be fucking brain damage though. Jesus, as if brain damage is some casual fucking thing that happens every day. This feeling is familiar. I haven't felt it in years. There's no fear, there's just the cold instinct. I should get to a hospital. Fuck, I don't have the money for a hospital and they'll know who did this. Even if Trevor's gone, I won't have the cops coming after him.

Like an idiot, I sit on the couch for hours. My body quakes with its hunger for crystal. My stomach is growling and I feel like a dried out prune. I can't bring myself to move to meet these needs. I think it's a deeper instinct that keeps me rooted to the couch. Something more powerful than that calculating survival intuition that's cropped up. That logical side of me tells me that Trevor is gone and I need to take care of myself. My heart disagrees. If I wait long enough he'll come back and then we can carry on with this crumbling charade.

I can barely detect the shifting of the light in the apartment. It seems like the sun is coming up. It's a detail that's meaningless to me. My sense of time was pretty fucked before but that was because of my meth habit. I have not fucking idea how long I was blacked out. Obviously not long enough to fucking starve to death. I dwell a bit on the concept that I'm dead and this is my personal hell. Sitting on this couch, a bloody mess, waiting for Trevor to walk back in the door. I feel like Satan could've come up with something a lot better than this to punish me though. No, I'm not fucking dead. I feel nauseous. There's just nothing for my stomach to barf up. I can hear the sound of the lock clicking open on the front door. My heart flutters. Even after all this, I'm still excited by his home coming.

I can make out his figure as he steps into the apartment. It's blurry and everything is a shade of red. Despite all of this, I know its Trevor. No one else on earth has a silhouette as breath taking as that. I can barely hear the sound of the door as he closes it. I think he's holding something in his hand. I can't figure out what it is from the blobby shape I'm able to make out. He just stands there, silently, as I stare at him. Part of me hopes that the longer I look at him the more details I'll be able to make out. I want to see his face. I want to see his face again so I can erase the last memory I have it of it. I don't want to hold on to that image. I don't want that to be the last thing I see of him. Not that twisted monster that I broke loose with my insanity.

"Hey," Trevor says.

His voice is so quiet I can barely hear it.

"Hey," I say.

It feels surreal as I command my lips and tongue to form words. My voice sounds dry, cracked and weak. It's as if I haven't spoken for a thousand years.

"I brought you something," Trevor says.

His voice just sounds so fucking dejected. It's enough to motivate me to try and stand up. I try to push myself off of the couch but I fall backwards. He sprints across the floor to try and catch me. I feel his strong arms wrap around me just a little bit too late.

"Easy," He says.

He stinks. He smells like piss, beer and sweat but, feeling the warmth of his body against mine is a borderline religious experience. He pulls away and I reach after him. My arms feel like they're made of concrete. He scoops up the present he brought me. He presses it into my lap. Up close I can finally see it's a teddy bear. The fabric it's made out of feels cheap and the stuffing seems lumpy. I think I'm smiling, but my face hurts so fucking much that I can't tell if I actually am.

"Thank you, " I croak.

I feel the rough skin of his calloused fingers picking the blood crusted hair away from my forehead. He brushes my matted hair with his fingers and I let myself lean against him.

"I'm sorry, Momma," Trevor says. "I'll never do that again, I promise."

I know he'll do it again. Next time he may very well kill me. I hug the teddy bear to my chest and nuzzle my face into his neck. I can feel the rhythm of his pulse and his big steady breaths.

"I'm sorry too, baby," I say. "I shouldn't have made you so mad."

I mean every word of that. I can't expect him to understand how I feel. I should've known better than to tell him about Michael's true nature. No one seems to understand me anymore. I thought he would. It seemed like he always understood me but I'm starting to see that was all just an illusion.

"I should go to a doctor," I say. "But we need to come up with an excuse for what happened to me or they'll arrest you."

He lets out a sigh. It's hard to believe that the man cradling me like a baby beat the living shit out of me earlier. He was so full of hatred and now he's a completely different person.

"It's a shitty neighborhood here; I'll just say I was mugged." I propose.

He cups my hand and laces his fingers between mine. He rests his chin on top of my head and I feel a wave of contentment wash over me. The doctor's can wait. I want to relish this moment. I dodged the bullet yet again. He came back to me. I drove him over and edge and he still came back. Maybe Michael won't win. Maybe the bitch is wrong. Maybe we'll last forever. Maybe we'll grow old together. Maybe we'll have a dozen children and a pretty house in the suburbs. Or maybe I'm completely fucking insane for actually believing any of that is even remotely possible.


	20. Just gonna stand there and watch me burn

Nothing makes a woman feel lonelier than sitting on a cold steel operating table in an open backed turquoise hospital gown. The giant florescent lights beaming down on my scarred, beaten body make me feel like I'm completely exposed. Everything in this room is so sterile and white. The linoleum tile looks like it was cleaned by a meticulous hand. Even the mint colored wallpaper is without flaw. I feel too filthy to be here. I wish Trevor was with me but I know that's the dumbest thing we could do. I waited for hours in the lobby. Even with this purple, swollen monstrosity of a face they still made me fucking wait. Well, it's what I fucking get for showing up to the goddamn free clinic. I've been in this room for a long fucking time too.

They must know I lied to them at reception. I'm just like every other battered housewife that walks in here. I have a shallow lie to protect my boyfriend. By now they must've heard every conceivable wild story out there. They won't crack me though. I refuse to put Trevor behind bars again. Cold sweat beads up on my skin. I didn't smoke up today. It's been a while, at least a day. If I was out as long as Trevor says I was. It won't matter really. The bitch tells me if they run a drug test they'll find out I'm a hopeless addict. In a place like this, would they even give two fucks?

I stare at the white door, swinging my feet as they dangle off the table. They fucking know. Jesus, they're going to come in here with cops and haul Trevor off. Did Michael already call them? Has he already made his move to destroy us both? I feel my chest starting to tighten up. Great, this is the last fucking time to have a panic attack. Maybe it would've been better if I had smoked up. At least that way I wouldn't be jonesing so hard that I can't fucking control my bullshit. My heart starts hammering in my chest when the thin man in the white lab coat walks into the room. He looks like he could be a druggie too. He's nothing but skin and bones. His grey comb over is limp and sticking to his sweaty scalp. The dark circles under his eyes and the deep set wrinkles in his face tell me he's seen a lot of shit in his day.

His blue eyes flicker over my body and then back to the clipboard clutched in his hand. He lets out a sigh and pulls up a shiny stool. He looks like a vulture as he stoops on it.

"Miss, I'm told you were mugged?" The doctor asks.

He sounds so fucking skeptical. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. He's about to ask me questions that he's had to ask a million times.

"Yes," I say.

Jesus tits, could I sound any more fucking nervous?

"Do you mind if I take a closer look at your injuries?" He asks. "I need you to remove your robe…"

I just nod my head. I feel like if I keep my mouth shut it'll be easier to keep the truth hidden. His touch is the gentlest sensation I've ever experienced. He's terrible at hiding his feelings though. I watch the frown on his face grow sterner as he examines my body.

"What exactly happened? Well-if you don't mind me asking," The doctor says.

He presses on the bruised spot on my ribs. I gasp out in pain and he shakes his head.

"I was just walking home. A bunch of guys jumped me, beat the shit out of me and took my purse. That's all there really is to it," I lie.

The doctor seems to hover over the bruises along my thighs longer than anywhere else. My heart starts to race. He fucking knows. He fucking knows.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," he says.

The doctor finally steps away and I pull the paper gown back over my body. He sits back down on his stool with a surprising sense of poise. He may look a fucking mess but he's got his shit together. I can tell from the way he carries himself.

"I'm going to be rather blunt with you," The doctor says.

Fucking Christ, here it comes.

"Your injuries aren't really consistent with just an ordinary mugging," The doctor explains. "Are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell me?"

I watch him rest his hands in his lap. The doctor seems very sad about how casual he feels in this situation. I feel the urge to scratch. I need the pain to bring me back into this moment.

"No, okay?" I say.

My nervous fidgeting certainly isn't helping me sound convincing.

"I was fucking mugged, alright? That's what I said happened and that's what happened." I go on. "Can we just get this over with? I want to go home."

His expression is stone fucking cold. This fucker isn't buying what I'm fucking selling.

"I have a lot of women come in that have been in your situation," The doctor says. "I understand how you're feeling right now. You're ashamed. You're embarrassed. This wasn't your fault. If you want me to help you, I need you to be honest with me."

God fucking damn it. Here I go, fucking blowing it again. I dig my fingernails into my arm. I just want to claw off my skin. That's not exactly going to get me out of this fucking situation though is it?

"I am being honest," I stammer.

"There's no need to be afraid," He assures. "I'm here to help you."

I dig my nails even deeper into my arm. I watch his eyes flicker down to them and back up to my face. He says he's here for me but I feel like he's just judging the fucking shit out of me. He's just like everybody fucking else.

"Ma'am, you were gang raped weren't you?" The doctor presses.

Holy shit. It's not what I was expecting him to say. Shit, it's fucking awful. I know this is not the fucking thing to lie about but if getting raped by some random thugs is a more plausible story than fine. I'll fucking go with that. If it means keeping Trevor out of prison I'll do it.

"Okay," I lie.

I'm going to hell for this. I want to claw off every inch of my skin for this lie. This is by far the most fucked thing I have ever fucking done for Trevor. Forget about all the savage beatings, all the thievery, all the murder plots. I'm twisting a fable about some serious fucking shit. I'm the worst kind of person there is.

"They-they raped me," I say. "I'm just—I'm scared."

Jesus fucking Christ. I just want this to be over with.

"It'll be okay," The doctor says. "We'll just perform a rape kit. I won't lie to you; it's not a pleasant experience."

I don't even care. Fuck, I deserve it after laying down this whopper. I know they won't find jack fucking shit.

"It's going to hurt?" I ask.

He wipes the sweat away from his forehead with his sleeve. The doctor's expression looks so fucking gloomy that it's only bringing me down even more. God's really going to fucking send me on a guilt trip for this one isn't he?

"It's not so much the pain," The doctor explains. "It's just—invasive."

I just nod and keep my lips tightly fucking shut. I act the way I think I should. I take hints from the way the nurses act around me. My dodgy behavior seems to fit what they expect from a situation like this. Shit, he wasn't lying to me though. It fucking sucked. I leave the clinic feeling like every ugly crevice of my body was explored and dragged out into the harsh light of day. I had to focus on Trevor to get myself through it. Fuck, I came here to repair the damage he did to me and I ended up going through a whole new ordeal just to protect him. I make it through the hours long endeavor though. It's fucking over. I'm fixed up and Trevor's still free. I had to tell a horrible lie to accomplish it all but at least it's fucking over.

My face is stitched together like a quilt and I've got a sampler of painkillers that I'll probably burn through tonight. They put me back together. I won't fucking die. I'm missing some teeth but let's face it, I'm a meth addict, I was probably going to lose them anyway. The sun is setting as I make my way to the bus stop. I'm followed by the whispers and stares from strangers. I'm so desperate for a fix now that it's impossible to ignore them. They're watching me. They're waiting for me to fuck up then they'll go run to the cops and get Trevor thrown in jail. I can't hear what they whisper to each other but I don't need to. I know they're talking about me. I know they're analyzing every single thing I do. I have to focus on being completely unremarkable. If I stand out, it'll only make things worse.

Even as I head into our apartment the stares follow me. Fuck, I can't even trust my neighbors. They shake their heads and whisper. They point at me like I'm some kind of animal in a zoo. We need to run away from here soon. We've been here too long. Trevor and I need to go some place where Michael can't reach us and people can't spy on us. Maybe we could go back to Canada? It'd be better if we went some place new though. We could go to Mexico. I don't speak Spanish but I could learn. It wouldn't fucking snow there either. I can see us lounging on a Mexican beach somewhere, sipping on fruity cocktails with Michael's head on a pike. I don't know if Trevor would be cool with that. Murdering, Michael I mean. He likes him too much. He doesn't realize what a twisted fuck he is. The bitch tells me my dreams will never come true. I know she's right.

I feel relief wash over me as soon as I enter my apartment. No one can watch me in here. I let my cold façade slip away as I step over the threshold. It's just me and Trevor here. This is our sanctuary. I know he's home. He told me he'd wait for me to get back. He actually seemed fucking worried about my well being. I'm excited to see him again. I know it's insane to love him. I've known for a long fucking time now. The bitch reminds me my control is slipping. As much as I want to hold on to this, I can't.

He's got his ass parked on the couch. He's got a beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. It's like every other ordinary day. It doesn't matter that my body is just chunks of meat being held together by stitches. It's as if that merciless beating he subjected me to never even fucking happened.

"How' d it go?" He asks.

He phrases that question as if I just got home from a job interview. My trip to the doctor was just a daily chore that needed to be handled. No big deal. Christ, we are completely fucked up.

"Fine" I say.

I flop down on the couch next to him. I pluck the cold beer can from his hand and bring it to my lips. The carbonated liquid burns at it travels down my throat. I really fucking needed this beer. Fuck, I need some goddamn crystal too. After all that bullshit at the doctor's, I want to get so fucked up that I can't even think straight.

"Just fine?" Trevor pries. "What happened?"

I down the last drop of beer and crush the can in my hand. I watch him take a drag from his cigarette. I love the way the thin trail of smoke billows out from between his lips.

"He didn't believe the mugging story," I explain. "He thought I was raped. So, I played along. Don't worry. I made it seem like it was just some thugs on the street. A random attack."

He doesn't seem to be the least fucking bit concerned.

"They did a fucking rape kit," I go on. "Which that shit, holy fuck, does that suck. They're gonna send me a letter or some shit with the test results."

"Test results?" Trevor asks. "Like what?

I just shrug. I wish I had another beer in my hand. It would make talking about this sick fucking lie a hell of a lot easier.

"I guess they test to see if I got an STD or if I got knocked up," I say. "That's what the doctor told me."

He lets out a snort and takes another drag from his cigarette.

"Well, as much as you would've enjoyed it, I did not fuck you while you were out cold yesterday," Trevor teases.

I laugh at the fucked up sentiment. Leave it to him to have me laughing about this twisted set of circumstances we've found ourselves in. The smile he's caused only unleashes another wave of pain in the muscles of my face. I didn't think it was possible to experience this many different types of pain all at once but apparently it is. I pull out the sampler of painkillers from my pocket and start to fiddle with the packaging.

"You know," Trevor coos. "We never really made up- I mean properly."

Oh boy, I know what he's getting at. I'm just not in the fucking mood. I just want to pop some of these pills and pass the fuck out.

"And by 'properly' you mean sexually," I say.

Even his seductive crooked grin isn't enough to persuade me. He drapes his arm over my shoulder and cozies up to me. His touch would normally be comforting and I would welcome it if I knew there weren't any strings attached.

"C'mon, Momma," Trevor says. "Show your man that you're happy to have him back."

He manages to get a giggle out of me as he nibbles on my earlobe.

"I'm sorry, babe," I say. "Maybe later? I'm not feeling so hot."

Trevor lets out a low growl. He slides his hand under my shirt and gropes at my breasts. The pain is too much for me to ignore. As much as I'd love to, it's not going to happen.

"Knock it off," I groan. "I'm not in the fucking mood okay? I'm a fucking walking meatball. I just want to go to bed."

He distances himself from me with the quickness of a viper. He's pissed. His brow is starting to twitch and that only means I'm in for a nice fucking fight. I'm so goddamn tired. I don't want to do this. This is fucking karma for that lie I told to that fucking doctor.

"Babe-" I begin.

"Oh don't fucking worry," Trevor seethes. "I'll just go fuck Maureen again."

What in the eternal fucking Christ did he just fucking say to me?

"Who the fuck is Maureen?" I snap.

He's got that crooked fucking grin plastered on his angry face. He couldn't look any more fucking smug.

"She's the hot blonde bitch I fucked while you were lying in a puddle of your own blood and excrement," Trevor cackles.

That son of a bitch. Trevor swore to me that he would never cheat again. He fucking swore. Big fucking surprise though. What did I honestly fucking expect of him? I know when he gets that torqued that he just doesn't sit on his ass twiddling his thumbs. He probably tore apart the whole goddamn city last night. I'm amazed that he didn't fuck a dozen desperate fucking cunts.

"You're a class fucking act, you know that?" I spit. "Fucking pig."

He just laughs in my fucking face. I want to shove my fist down his throat and watch him slowly choke to death on it.

"She fucking loved it too!" Trevor says. "She begged for it over and over and I fucking gave it to her. She had such a tight little ass too! And her skin! Oh you should've seen her perfect fuckin—"

"Fuck you!" I scream.

I can't fucking believe he went there. The one thing that bugs me the most. He's doing this just to get back at me for rejecting his cock. That's the only fucking reason he mentioned her goddamn skin. I can't get the fucking image out of my head now. I just see some perfectly proportioned white woman swerving her hips around in my head. I can't believe he'd stoop this fucking low. His laughter echoes through the apartment.

"Do you know how many times she made me cum?" Trevor goes on. "That pussy was smooth as fucking velvet. It was like taking a bath in fucking cream, Momma. Perfectly smooth fucking cream."

My fist meets his face before he can utter another word. My knuckles crack as the slam into his eye socket. I expect him to hit me back. I expect to see the rage fill his eyes and his hands to ball up into fists. Instead he just laughs. He laughs in my fucking face like the little punk he is.

"Shut the fuck up!" I scream.

I used to love the sound of that laughter. Now that it's ringing in my ears, I just want to slit his throat so he can never laugh again.

"What the fuck are you gonna do, huh?" Trevor says. "You're fucking pathetic! This isn't my fucking woman. This isn't the person I used to know!"

I shove him away. It's like trying to move a brick wall with my bare hands. It's fucking useless. I can try to hurt him all I fucking want but I'll never be able to make a dent in him. He's too strong. I hate him for hurting me again. I hate him for pushing all the right buttons. He has betrayed me in the worst possible way.

"I'm not pathetic!" I protest. "You're the one who's fucking pathetic! Who beats up his fucking girlfriend and then goes off and fucks some cheap whore!? What kind of man does that!?"

I can barely hear my voice over his hysterical laughter. Trevor doesn't harbor any respect for me. After everything I've done for him. I'll show him. I'll fucking show him that I'm a force to be reckoned with.

"Where the fuck is she?" I demand. "Where did you fucking find this cunt!?"

When he responds with only more laughter, I snap. I grab him by the collar and start shaking him. His head bobs back and forth and the cackling continues to ring in my ears.

"Tell me you son of a bitch! I'm going to cut that bitch wide fucking open and paint the walls with her filthy fucking guts!" I scream.

"She's a stripper at the Cornhole," Trevor gasps.

I'm too hungry for her blood to care if he's lying. I know that place. I know her name. That's all I need. The bitch whispers in my head. Her voice is like a foghorn in the night. The whore must die. I will break her pretty little body. No one will have Trevor except for me. Not a single fucking soul. And when I come home with her blood on my hands, Trevor will see just how strong I really fucking am. I snatch my purse off of the floor.

It doesn't matter that I am broken. I am fueled by a pure sense of unbridled hatred. The bitch urges me onward. I must clean up the last remnant of last night's mess. Once I wipe her off the face of existence there will be nothing left to hold us back. Momma always cleans up Trevor's messes and that's exactly what I'm about to fucking do. I burst through the front door and start running down the hall.

"What the fuck are you going to do you crazy fucking cunt!?" Trevor hollers after me.

I stop in my tracks. Every inch of my body is screaming in pain but I don't care. I look straight into his wild eyes and feel a smile creep across my face. I start laughing. The bitch is laughing too. I can hear my cackles echoing off of the paper thin walls of the hallway.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to fucking do," I say. "I'm going to fucking kill her."

"Thatta girl!" Trevor cheers.

He slams the door and I can hear his muffled laughter leaking out into the hallway. My heart is racing and I can feel the excitement rising up within me. It sneaks into every crevice of my soul and fills me with a high that's better than anything I have ever experienced. It doesn't matter that I have no car. It doesn't matter that I don't have a gun. It doesn't matter that I am two steps away from collapsing. I am a broken battered mess of a woman that's barely even held together. I am being fueled by a supernatural force that is capable of setting the world on fire. I am careening down a path of self destruction and it is the most glorious feeling I have ever experienced.

I don't even know what her face looks like but I can picture her skull in my hands being crushes like a rotten grapefruit. I didn't think it was possible to hate someone more than I hate Michael Townley. I have proven myself wrong today. As the chill of the evening creeps into the air, I limp down the street towards my destination. The bitch tells me about all the splendid things we are going to do to that unfortunate fucking whore. I will break her just like Trevor broke me. I will leave nothing behind but a heap of ashes. No one will know her name. No one will know her face. No one will know her story. All they will ever understand is that by touching Trevor Philips, she sealed her fate.


	21. That's alright, I like the way it hurts

There are no stars in the sky tonight. An inky black void hangs above my head as I stare at the flashing pink neon sign. My feet sting from the blisters that formed and burst on my manic trek here. My limbs are shaking from exhaustion. Sweat pours down the hot skin of my face. Every breath I take in hurts. My broken ribs send a sharp stabbing pain that runs right to my core. I spent hours getting here. I ran till I couldn't anymore and then I stumbled like a crazed drunkard all the way here. I'm running on sheer force of will. The bitch beckons me forward. Every step I take forward fills me a sexual excitement. I'm so close.

The bouncer stands by the door. He's big, bald and mean. In a shit hole like this they need a man like him. As I draw closer to him, I can see the stern expression start to slip away from his face. The pink glow from the neon sign lights up the bulbous features of his face. He doesn't look horrified, I don't expect him too. It's not typical for a woman to come to a place like this. It's even less typical for someone who looks like me to show up. I am aware of how utterly disastrous I appear. I am covered in sweat, my skin is every conceivable shade of purple that you can be and I'm swollen in places that I didn't know even existed.

He doesn't stop to question me as I step through the swinging violet door. I can still feel his gaze follow me into the club. My nose fills with the stench of cigar smoke and cheap perfume. The carpet beneath my feet is a matted mess of maroon. The walls used to be an ungodly shade of pink but now they're stained with grime and the splooge of lonely men. A rhythmic bass beat pulses through the air. The music is so loud it's making my very bones shake. As I walk into the club, I'm very pleased to see there's not too many people here.

How fucking perfect. Strobe lights flash in my face as I survey the place. There's a bar to my right with a saggy titted bitch standing behind the counter in a gold bikini. She shoots me a dirty look as I approach her. Some tiny Mexican girl has her legs wrapped around the glossy pole in the center of the stage as a group of men shower her with crinkled bills. I climb onto one of the bar stools. My joints are throbbing from the journey and I can't help but grunt in pain. This close up, I can see the wrinkles on the bartender's face. She's wearing so much fucking make up and it makes her age even that much more obvious to me. She looks me up and down and wrinkles her nose.

"Can I get you something, sugar?" She asks.

She honestly gives no fucks why I'm here. It's unusual but all she gives a shit about is my fucking money. This is something that will only play to my advantage. Jesus, this is all going so fucking well. God is on my side tonight. This is going to pan out just the way I want it to. I'm so giddy with anticipation that my hands are shaking. I try to put on an innocent smile but the corner of my mouth is twitching way too fucking much. Why try to hide the crazy?

"Actually," I begin. "I'm not really interested in a drink."

The bartender rolls her eyes. She drums her acrylic nails on the surface of the counter.

"Well, you either buy a drink, or a dance, or you leave, okay?" the bartender presses.

She is so fucking rude. Maybe when I'm done with Maureen, I'll come back over to this bar and shove a broken bottle in her leathery fucking face.

"I'm actually looking for someone," I say.

I sound so fucking sugary sweet. Jesus, I'm so good at this shit. I'm a real fucking bitch.

"What?" The bartender says.

She sounds annoyed with me and I'm relishing the feeling of causing her this minor pain.

"You want a private dance?" The bartender asks. "Whatever fucking floats your boat."

I fold my hands across the bar counter and lean in closer to her. I motion for her to lean closer. I'm half tempted to punch her in the face but I still need her.

"I'd like things to be discreet," I lie. "I'm a little shy."

The bartender nods. I might actually believe that she sympathizes a bit with this imaginary situation I've created for her. Bless her dried up fucking heart.

"Its fine," the bartender assures. "We get women in here too sometimes. Do you want someone specific? We've got a menu-"

"Is Maureen working tonight?" I ask.

My question seems to catch her off guard. She raises one of her ungodly drawn on eyebrows.

"Yeah she is, you sure you want her?" the bartender asks. "Tessa is more into uh-servicing clients of your persuasion."

Her response fills me with elation. She's here. The whore is fucking here. I'm salivating over the prospect of her presence being so close. The bitch flashes image in my head of Trevor pounding his fat cock into her slippery fucking cunt. She chose the wrong man to screw. Of all the men on earth she chose mine. Biggest fucking mistake of her sad little life.

"I want Maureen," I press. "I can't have anybody else."

The bartender pulls back. I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks I'm the weirdest fucking person that has ever walked in here. I probably fucking am too. I don't care. I want to feel Maureen's hot blood splattering across my face as I kick the living shit out o her.

"Alright," The bartender says.

Jesus, could she sound anymore fucking awkward? If she treats all the customers like this, it makes a lot of fucking sense why this place is so fucking empty.

"I'll go get her for you," the bartender groans.

I watch her flat ass as she steps into the back room. I'm so fucking close. I seize the private moment. I pick at the stitches on my face. I have to do something. I have to keep my hands moving or I'll just go nuts on this whole fucking place right now. I should've just ran to the back room with a baseball bat. I shouldn't have horsed around with all this. That would've been a lot more fun than this but it also would've been very fucking stupid. I suppose though coming here period was pretty fucking stupid.

The ten minute wait seems like an eternity. When Maureen finally comes strutting out of the backroom I find myself taken a back. She's not at all what I was expecting. She's way to fucking thin. Her collar bones are sticking out from her freckled skin. Even with all that make up caked on her face I can see the distinctive scabs on her face. She's a junkie too. Her blonde hair is a mess of frizzy curls and her eyes look empty and sad. So she's not perfect but that doesn't make things any different. She fucked my Airman, she has to die.

"You're the one who wants the private dance?" Maureen asks.

Her voice sounds gruff and unenthusiastic. I know what Trevor saw in her now. For the briefest of moments I contemplate just walking away. Even though we look nothing alike, I feel like I'm staring in the mirror. I'm looking back at the person I was a handful of years ago. I'm looking at the woman he picked up at the bar. She's everything I used to be. She's a bit of a mess but she's so fucking beautiful. My bottom lip starts to tremble as I look her over.

No matter how hard I try I will never get back to that. I will never live up to those expectations ever again. I had no fucking clue just how fucking nice I had it. Fucking her was the worst thing Trevor could have ever done to me. This was worse than pulling the bank job without me. This was worse than those hookers he fucked. This was worse than the savage beatings he's subjected me too over and over. He's reminded me that I have turned into something so twisted and disgusting that there is no going back.

I had planned on waiting. I was going to take her to private room for a lap dance. I was going to lull her into a sense of security and then snap her in half like a twig. I'm in too much pain to think anymore. I leap at her. I can hear her bones snap as I shove her into the ground. The bartender starts screaming and chaos erupts in the club. The bass throbs in my head as claw the shit out of her pretty fucking face. Her blood coats my fingers and hot tears stream down my face. I cry out as I slam my fist into her little mouth again and again. Every time my knuckles meet her face, she's one step closer to looking just like me.

I feel strong arms grabbing at me, trying to pull me off of her. I kick and scream to break free from them. I tear my limbs away from a blessed fucking second and continue to wail on the bitch's busted fucking face. Sticky blood coats my hands as they drag me off of her still, frail body. I can barely understand the words they're shouting at me as they drag me out of the club. All I can think about is getting back to Maureen and turning her into a pile of hamburger. I swing at the bouncer's face and someone else latches onto my wrist. I thrash and curse at them.

Red and blue flashing lights greet me when they drag me out into the night. I don't even fucking care. I just want to kill that fucking bitch. I can still see her pretty face teasing me in my head. I see my old face dancing across my mind. The cops handle me like I'm an animal. They shove me up against the slick surface of the car and tug my hands behind my back. I thrash to try get away as they cuff me. The fucking pigs laugh at me as the shove me into the back of the car. I bang my head against the thick glass of the window. Instinct drives me to escape, it compels me to get out and get my hands back on her. I rattle the bars that separate me from the bastards in the front seat. I keep fighting even as the car rumbles down the street. The neon sign shrinks in the distance until it's barely a blip in the dark night.

I spend the night in jail cell. It takes hours for me to calm down. When the insanity slowly ebbs away my bullshit comes back with a raging passion. I am in jail. I am in fucking jail. I'm surrounded by cold concrete walls and rusted metal bars. My company consists of babbling drunks, boney hookers and mean looking bitches with a grudge. They're all scared of me too. I looked like I walked right out of a slasher movie. I'm covered in someone else's blood. No one will fuck with me. No matter how bad they think they are, I look badder. I don't regret a thing though. I would crush that pretty face a thousand times over. I still want to.

I'm not sure how many hours slip by as I sit alone in the corner. My back is pressed up against the icy surface of the walls and I run my nails across the stitches on my face. I tug on the threads because it's the closest thing I can do to picking. The pain is so minuscule though. No amount of picking or cleaning will undo this. There will be hell to pay when Trevor finds out. Every cop in this station will be dead. I can't allow that. Thinking about him triggers that ancient instinct within me. This is the worse mess I have ever created and it's time to clean it up. I've had my revenge but it has cost me my freedom. I had to do it though. I had no choice. I had to prove to Trevor that I'm not a joke.

A detective approaches my cell. The other women whistle at him and snicker. He's accompanied by two other officers. That's how I know he's here for me. After the struggle I put up, they're not fucking around with me. I won't fight them anymore. I know it's useless. I'm not blinded by my thirst for blood anymore. The detective calls my name and I sit up. I flash him a smile. Jesus, I must look really fucking pretty because he cringes.

"You don't need those two," I assure. "I'll be good, I promise."

The detective just shakes his head. His shitty black toupee looks like it's about to slip off his sweaty fucking head when he does it too. I giggle as the officers step in and cuff me again. They escort me out of the cell and down the narrow corridor.

"See ya, ladies," I tease as they haul me away.

The officers talk about me as if I'm not even there. They explain to the detective what happened when they picked me up. Apparently I did get a few hits in on them. I beam with pride at the thought. I assaulted an officer. That's good fucking news. I'm going to be put away for a long fucking time for that one.

I watch them unlock the door to the interrogation room. It's a place that I knew I would very well see one day. The yellow, florescent lights flicker over my head and peeling grey paint on the walls makes it even more inviting. The officers plop me down in the rickety folding chair and I watch the detective sit across from me. He shuffles the pile of papers on the filthy table. He won't look me in the eye. Am I too much for him? Am I too fucking scary for the big bad cop? The officers take their positions on either side of me. It brings a smile to my face. If only Trevor could see me now. He'd be so fucking proud.

The detective looks over the paperwork that he has spread out in front of him. His soft face looks haggard. I watch his eyes dart across the words on the pages. Eventually they flicker back up to me. He says my name and I flash him a toothless grin.

"That's me," I say. "Unless some aliens kidnapped me and replaced me with a clone."

No one finds that funny. Jesus, these guys are pricks.

"This really isn't the time for humor, ma'am," the detective says. "Do you realize how much trouble you're in?"

Oh I fucking do, the hand cuffs and the iron bars clued me in to that one. I've been a bad fucking girl.

"Okay, so I beat up some cunt." I say. "Big fucking deal."

His expression remains stone cold.

"We ran your prints," the detective explains. "You've done a lot more than that."

My heart literally fucking skips a beat. The smile falls away from my face. I try to lean forward to look at the papers but one of the officers pushes me back into my seat.

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

I try to search his face for any hint; any clue of what events are unfolding before my eyes.

"You must remember the gas station off of highway ninety," the detective says.

Shit, shit, shit. I finally get a fucking reaction from him. He's grinning like an obese kid who just heard the ice cream truck coming. He can tell I'm panicking. I'm fucked.

"We pulled your prints off the counter," he explains.

I'm so fucked. I'm so fucking fucked. Assault and armed robbery. That's some serious shit. That's at least ten fucking years in the slammer.

"I-I want a lawyer," I beg.

They're laughing at me now. I don't blame them. I'm a fucking idiot. I'd be laughing at me too. Jesus, if they can tie me to that gas station, they can tie Trevor to me too. He was there. Terror grips me in the chest. It feels tight and I'm having a hard time breathing. I can't send Trevor back to prison. I can't let him be hauled away. I might not have the power to keep that from happening. If there's a god, they don't have enough to get him. There still might be time for him to run.

"You had company at the gas station didn't you?" The detective says. "Maybe if you—"

"I ain't saying shit until I have a lawyer," I snap.

I'm full on in clean up mode now. I have one priority and that's keeping Trevor safe. I am going down for this. I will go away for a long fucking time. I won't let that happen to him. I won't put him through that again. I won't stab him in the back. We swore to each other we'd have each other's backs. Even after all the shit he's put me through lately, I can't do this to him.

They drag their feet getting me a lawyer. I know whoever it is, they'll be shit. Anyone that shows up from the public defender's office is a fucking joke. I'm so fucking screwed that I doubt anyone is willing to take on my case. I can't make bail and I refuse to call Trevor. I have to keep him as far away from me as possible if there's any hope for him to escape. I need to warn him somehow though. I need to get him the fuck out of here. How long will it take for them to figure out he's my boyfriend? They could be knocking on our front door right now. I won't be there to protect him. He'll be all on his fucking own.

Can he make it on his own? The one thing he's seem to proven over the past few months is that he doesn't fucking need me. He's a stronger human than I. He's capable of greater things than I could ever fucking imagine. If anything, I've been holding him back. I know he's a monster but at his heart he's a good man. He won't let me go down alone. Trevor would kill me before he let me go down alone. I can't give him the chance to do this. I start to formulate my plan before my lawyer arrives. There are so many chances for it to fall apart but I have no other options.

We meet in the same fucking room they dragged me in to interrogate me. It leaves me feeling uneasy. I know they're still watching me in here. I have to choose my words carefully. I have to hope that the suit they send in is willing to cooperate with me. I'm a raving lunatic. Who the fuck is really going to listen to me? I find comfort in the fact that she's a woman too. She looks like a fucking angel. She has perfect brown skin and long golden hair. She's the fucking angel of my salvation. She has kind eyes and I can tell she actually fucking feels sorry for me. Her pity won't be enough though to get me out of this.

"My name's Joan Harrow," she says.

She holds out her perfectly manicured hand. A frown creeps across her face when she remembers I'm cuffed and can't shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you Joan," I say.

She smiles awkwardly. I have to place all my hopes on this stranger. If she can make happen what I need to, than I'll have won.

"I've reviewed your case," Joan says. "I must say, things are not looking good for you."

I laugh. It's a weak sound and I don't really fucking mean it. How many more people are going to tell me I'm fucked? I'm well fucking aware of that. Thanks for sharing.

"I know," I say.

Joan sets her thin suitcase on the table and flicks it open. She takes out yet another stack of paperwork. Jesus, these fuckers certainly love their goddamn forms. Joan sets them down in front of me. I don't even care. I don't want to see them.

"You can read over those if you like," Joan says. "You can read, right?"

Wow, am I that much of a fucking hoodlum that she thinks I can't?

"Yes," I growl.

She laughs nervously and I just shake my head.

"You're looking at a lot of time," Joan explains. "Armed robbery, assault and battery-if you cooperate with the police, it'll help lessen your sentence. I think that's all we can hope for."

I expected her to say this. She means well but she has no idea the type of person her client is.

"I know how the street is. You don't want to be a snitch but you need to look out for yourself," Joan goes on. "I guarantee those guys would back stab you in a heartbeat if it meant they could get off."

She has no fucking idea what it's like to live my life. She gets points for trying though. Joan doesn't realize that this is only going to end one way.

"That's not happening," I say. "I'm sorry. You can talk my ear off all fucking day if you want but I will not back down on this. I will not turn my partner in. No matter how much you fucking try, you will have to pry open my skull on my cold dead corpse to get their name."

Joan shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She clears her throat before she speaks again.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Joan says.

She starts to pack away the papers she set out. Smart fucking woman, I like her, it's a pity we had to meet under these circumstances.

"Well, I understand you have a history of mental health problems?" Joan says. "We can try to plead insanity."

This business can be addressed later. Trevor's all that matters to me right now. Until I know he's taken care of I won't be able to concentrate on my case.

"I need you to secure me a meeting with a man called Michael Townley," I say.

Joan freezes and gives me a queer look. She brushes her blonde hair away from her face and smiles nervously.

"Um…who is that?" Joan asks.

I glance at the camera hanging up in the corner. They can't hear me but they can fucking see me. I need to get used to being watched. Privacy is a luxury I won't get to experience anymore.

"It doesn't matter, can you do it?" I say.

It's not a complicated fucking question, Joan. Just answer me.

"I need to talk to him, once we've spoken, I'm all yours," I say. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah, I can do that. Is he your boyfriend or something?" Joan says.

That makes me laugh. Shit, it feels fucking good to actually find something funny.

"Thank fucking God he is not," I chuckle.

Joan stands up and smooths out the wrinkles in her purple skirt. I have a good feeling about her. I think she's exactly the person I needed to get this job done.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Joan asks.

If she could teleport Trevor here so I could kiss him goodbye and beg him to forgive me that would be fucking golden. There's no way to make that happen. There's no way I will ever get to properly bid him farewell. His silver grin flashes across my mind and I feel the weight of defeat settling in my heart.

"No, Joan, that's all I need," I say.


	22. Just gonna stand there and hear me cry

The last human being on the face of the fucking earth that I want to talk to is sitting across from me. Michael and I are separated by a filthy pane of glass. His beady fucking eyes stare at me and his greasy fucking hands are folded in his lap. He's just lounging in that cheap plastic chair as if he's meeting me in the middle of a fucking coffee shop. This isn't how I wanted this to go down. I was hoping for something more private but this was the best that Joan could do. I can hear the sobs of the other inmates crying to their loved ones over their misfortune. The guards hover in the corner, surveying us as if we were a room full of cattle.

The orange jumpsuit only makes the purple bruises on my face stand out even more. At least I add some nice fucking color to this drab hell hole. I remember visiting Trevor in prison. I know how it feels now, Trev. It fucking sucks. Michael pulls back his sleeve and looks at the gaudy watch on his wrist. I roll my eyes. We pick up the black receivers and I cringe as I press the plastic to my face. How many herpes encrusted hands have wrapped their fingers around this? I feel like I'm going to contract a disease just by holding it.

"How you doing?" Michael asks.

I can feel the bile creeping up my throat. I've been sick as fuck the past few days. I keep waking up at the butt crack of dawn and unloading last night's dinner in the toilets. I'm Madame Fucking Dysentery now. I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe it's come to this. I have to turn to the man I hate the most. I have no one else left though. The twisted fucking part is I know he's the only person who can get the job done. I never fucking trusted him but I do know that he'll have no trouble with the task I need him to execute. I'm pretty fucking sure he's going to love it too.

"I'm awful," I say. "Listen, we don't have much time."

He cracks his neck. Jesus fucking Christ, that shit annoys the piss out of me. He's just a nasty little bug with nasty little habits and I'm more than fucking pleased with the prospect that this is the last fucking time I will ever see him.

"Okay, ya know T is looking for you? He thought you ran off," Michael says. "What's going on? He's really worried."

I'm grateful he doesn't drop Trevor's name. I have no fucking clue if we're being recorded but I don't want to risk it. I sigh and trace my fingers along the stitched up wounds on my face. When these wounds heal and the bruises fade, I will have nothing left to remember the last time he touched me.

"You know I hate you," I say. "But I have no one else to turn to."

Michael just shakes his head.

"I told you before, I don't have any fucking problems with you," Michael sighs. "Can—"

"I don't care," I say. "I need you to—"

My voice is already starting to choke up. Fuck this. I'm not crying in front of Townley. No fucking way. I glance over the room. I can't believe this is going down like this. This conversation is going to completely change my life. It's going to undo everything I have strived for over the past few years. And it's all fucking happening in a room that's made out of cinderblocks and smells like piss.

"I need you to lie to T," I begin.

Just cut open my chest right now and rip my fucking heart out. In my head, this conversation seemed like it would be so easy to have. Now that it's going down, I can't fucking handle it. My voice is shaking as I speak and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. Michael opens his slit of a mouth to speak but I cut him off.

"Don't ask any questions, just listen," I say. "They're trying to get me to throw people under the bus. They know I had help with the gas station job. I refuse to tell them who was there. T will not let me go to prison. He will do whatever it takes to get me out of here even if that means turning himself in. I will not fucking allow that to happen. He won't listen to me though-"

I have to stop. I cover my mouth to keep the sob from escaping my lips. I let a tear stream down my face. Looking at the expression on Michael's face makes it even harder. Shit, maybe this fucker does actually care.

"You need to lie to him," I say. "I don't care what you say but you have to make me look like a bitch. You have to make me a villain. Then you need to get him the fuck out of here. Get him as far away from here as you can and don't bring him back. He's going to be angry. He's going to be absolutely fucking devastated. He's going to need you now more than he ever has before. He's going to cling to you and I swear to fucking god if you hurt him-if you hurt him-"

I start to rock in my seat. I have to keep it together. Jesus though, I just can't get his beautiful face out of my head.

"It's alright," Michael says.

It's not fucking alright. I'm losing my Airman. I'm losing that beautiful boy who pulled me out of my own personal hell and took me on the greatest ride of my life. I will love him until the apocalypse comes and rains hellfire down on the surface of the earth. I will love him until the day I'm shriveled up in an old folks' home shitting my pants. I will never see him again. The last time I saw him was a moment full of hate and jealousy. It was the ugliest moment of my life and that's all he'll have to remember me. He will see me as a monster for the rest of his life.

I let the grief flow out of me. I let the sobs wrack my body and the salty tears stream down my battered face. Michael just sits there, silent as the fucking grave, the awkward bastard.

"Do you understand what you have to do?" I choke.

Michael runs his fat fingers through his cheesy fucking brown hair. He lets out a dejected sigh and nods.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better," Michael admits. "Especially now—holy shit—you do realize what you're doing don't you?"

"I do," I say. "But I love him."

When Michael Townley departs, I know that it has all finally come to an end. I didn't die in the process. I never would've guessed I would be the one cutting the cord. I always expected it to be him. Life never fucking pans out the way that you expect it to though. I feel like I died that day. I feel like a part of me withered up into a pile of ashes. My heart is broken but Trevor roams free. He will do all the things that I knew he could. He will take to the skies and set the whole fucking world on fire. I wanted to be there to see it. I wanted to be by his side. But I will never get to see him again. All I have left is the memories of our time together. It seems like it went by so fucking fast too.

Before I go to trial, the free clinic gets a hold of me. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant and Trevor is probably already a thousand miles away. I want to tell him. I know he'd want to know but I have no fucking clue where he is. I have no way to tell him. I have no way to find him. Even if I could, he'd just come running back here and where the fuck would that get him? Joan tells me this will help the case. She tells me it'll make the jury sympathize with me. She was right too. They saw me for what I am: a pathetic junkie that's lost her mind. They don't send me to prison.

Trevor's son grows inside my belly while I sit in an asylum for the criminally insane. If I'm good they'll let me out in ten years. I have nowhere to send this baby. No matter how many times they ask, I won't tell them who the father is. They just assume it's the product of the rape I made up to protect Trevor. Joan helps me find Kimmy again. For some stupid fucking reason that dumb bimbo fucking forgives me. It's like we never lost touch. She's married now. Found herself a nice vet and they have a shit ton of kids. It's like she fucking planned. Kimmy's smart enough to figure out who the father is. She agrees to take care of my son as long as I promise to not try and get a hold of Trevor. I lie to her face. I tell her I won't but deep down inside I vow that as soon as I get out I'll try to find him.

Little Ryan Philips comes in the night. When I hold him in my arms, all I see is his father's face. I scream when they tear him from me. I weep for days. I lash out at every human being that comes across my path. My psychologist warns me that if I keep it up, I'll never be able to leave. The void that's opened up inside won't let me do that. Ryan is all I have left of Trevor. He's all I want. I barely held him in my arms for an hour and I already love him. I get in trouble for beating up another patient. I get in trouble for cutting. Kimmy promises that if I cooperate with the doctor's she'll bring Ryan for a visit.

It takes me a long time to open up to the psychologist. But I do it for Ryan. I tell the bespectacled man in the white lab coat about my shitty life. I tell him about my father the murderer and my mother the perfect housewife. I tell him about all the times my father beat the living shit out of my mother because our house wasn't perfect. I tell him what it was like to watch my father murder her. I tell him about all the shitty people that fucked me over and about my bullshit. I tell him about Dani and how empty I feel without her around. I tell him about Trevor and how desperately I still love him. He tells me Trevor is a toxic person and I need to let him go. I lie to him and say I will.

I cherish every picture of Ryan that Kimmy sends me. He makes me cards and I tape them on the wall of my room. When they come to visit, he asks me when I'm coming home. He grows so fast and I feel like I'm missing his life. I promise him the world and that we'll be together soon. The more he grows the more I try to get better. My bullshit actually gets better. The psychologist explains that obsessive compulsive disorder never goes away, neither will my psychotic tendencies. They get me on pills that silence the bitch in my head. I feel nothing when I'm on them and I welcome it. The chemicals help me forget about the gaping hole in my life that used to be filled with Trevor. Birthdays and holidays slip by every year and I still love him. I think about him every day. I keep these secret feelings to myself. If I tell anyone I'm still in love with him, they won't let me go free. I lie and tell Kimmy that I know he's a monster and would be a terrible father.

I know he would be a good father. I know he would love Ryan. I know he would see to it that Ryan had everything he could ever possibly desire. I know he's not perfect, I know he's just as broken as me but I know that he loves fiercely and is loyal. He can be gentle when he wants to be and has the heart of a child. I feel like the devil for keeping Ryan from him. I can do nothing to remedy this until I get out. I spend ten years in the asylum. Ryan is a strong boy by the time I get out. The older he gets the more I see his father's features in his face. I track Trevor down a total of two times. I send him letters. I get no response. I know he hasn't read them. If he had he'd be here. He'd want to see Ryan.

When Ryan asks about his father I tell him the truth. I tell him that his father was a pilot in the Air Force and that he would've loved him very much. I tell him that I did bad things and that's why he can't see him. Kimmy finds out that I tried to get a hold of Trevor. She threatens to take sole custody of Ryan if I do it again. I know it's pointless to try again anyway. I try dating again. It never works out. No one compares to Trevor. No one understands me the way he did. No one pushes me to be a better person like he did. Ryan's the only thing on earth that keeps me moving forward.

Ryan gets angrier as he becomes a teenager. He's mad at me for being away for so long. He's mad that I didn't try harder to find his father. When he screams at me it's like Trevor's standing right before my eyes. I worry his anger will turn him into a monster too. I know why he's angry. I'd be angry too. I know all I can do is stay by his side until he comes to terms with his lot in life. He's nearly a man before he's finally able to let go. It's the same night I find out that he's gay. I hold Ryan close and tell him that I love him no matter what. I tell him that his father would love him too.

Over the years, my scars fade. My skin is still speckled with the faint remnants of my self destruction. Every day when I look in the mirror and gaze at my crooked nose, I remember Trevor. The scars he left behind are my most beautiful feature. I think about what he would have to say about all this. About my wrinkles and sagging tits. I think about how proud he'd be of Ryan. I miss him but I know I will never see him again. I don't know what Michael told him all those years ago. Whatever it was, it worked. Trevor left and he will never come back. I will long for his touch for the rest of my days and maybe when I finally kick the bucket, we'll see each other in Hell.


	23. That's alright, I love the way you lie

I am too old for this bullshit. I am the goddamn CEO of Trevor Philips Enterprises and this is the last fucking place I should be right now. I should be back in Sandy Shores making sure Ron doesn't completely destroy the business I put my blood, sweat and tears into. But Jesus fucking Christ, here I am, driving down a highway in North Fucking Yankton. I wasn't here that long ago. I flew out here and dug up a grave marked with Michael's name only to discover Brad lying beneath six feet of frozen dirt. That son of a bitch. Just thinking about that lying sack of shit makes me want to smash out the window in this shitty rental car.

Yes, we're fucking friends again but it's kind of hard to let go of that fucking doozy. These past few months have been really fucking nuts. I made some new friends. I ended up murdering most of them but that's not the point. My best friend comes back from the dead and then introduces me to his little protégé. We pull the biggest fucking score of our lives and then put a bullet in the head of every pansy ass sack of shit that was causing us trouble. I should feel really fucking good right now. I remember why I'm here and I just can't resist. I slam my elbow into the window and watch the glass explode out onto the highway as I thunder down the road. Fuck, that feels good.

I didn't think Michael had any more bombs to drop on me. I feel like a dumb fucking cunt for actually thinking he didn't have any more secrets to share with me. I knew something was up the moment he called me that sunny afternoon. He wants to take me out for drinks, says we need to talk about some shit. Jesus, all this fucking talking that's been going down lately. It gives me a fucking headache. I wish I had another window to smash when I think about that conversation. Michael got me all liquored up. We were having a grand old fucking time until he says her name.

Geraldine Smith.

Shit, it was enough to send me into a rage. I beat the shit out of some punk ass Los Santos dandy as soon as he said it. That crazy fucking cunt got arrested after she beat up some random bitch I fucked. Then she had the fucking nerve to try and testify against me to get out of serving her full fucking sentence. I couldn't believe that horse shit. Michael told me all about that garbage. He's the one who helped me get the hell out of dodge. He was my real friend. She broke every fucking promise she made to me, and as far as I was concerned, she could fucking sit in that prison cell until her disease riddled vagina turned into dust.

The trouble fucking is apparently Michael lied about that too. He tells me that we're good friends again and he doesn't want things to be weird. He has to tell me because he always felt I needed to know. I honestly don't fucking believe him at first. I mean I have every fucking reason to doubt him. He is the biggest fucking liar I have ever met. He tells me Geraldine asked him to lie. That she knew I wouldn't let her go to prison alone. Bullshit, fucking bullshit. I mean yeah that's true. I probably would've killed every police officer in North Yankton to break her out but that little detail is completely fucking irrelevant.

Shit though, he means it. He really fucking means it. God, I hate him so fucking much but it sounds like something she'd do. Geraldine always fucking bent over backwards for me. That's why it hurt so bad when all that shit went down. I never thought she would do that to me. I thought I knew her. I thought she had my fucking back. I couldn't believe it but I trusted Michael. I fucking trusted him so I ran off with him.

I was seriously fucking distraught that night. It was a traumatic fucking time for me. After all the shit that went down in Los Santos, I really wasn't fucking prepared for that crap. So I called Patricia. Jesus, I know she'll never take me back. I know I'll never have her but I still love her. I called her a thousand times until she finally picked up. I told her everything. Literally fucking every last detail about my relationship with Geraldine. And fucking of course, Patricia listened like the fucking saint she is. She told me I couldn't let this chance go. I needed to move on. I needed to have my own life. Patricia said if Geraldine really did that for me, she was a good woman and I needed to go get her. That sweet fucking lady, all she wants is for me to be fucking happy. So I agreed to go, just for her sake.

That's why I'm here. A few fucking LifeInvader searches, a six hour flight and here the fuck I am. Patricia is still my first fucking choice though. She is the most beautiful human being I have ever had the privilege of knowing. The problem is, she's also an infinitely better human being than I am. She respects her marriage vows too much. Damn it, it's a fucking shame. But if all this shit is true about Geraldine—shit. She would be my second choice.

God damn she was gorgeous. She was a little spitfire. She may have been short but she had curves for days. Her ass was a fucking work of art though, her tits weren't anything to write home about. She had a heart shaped face with those plump lips and little button nose. I know it's a little fucking weird but I grew to love the faded scars on her chocolate skin. It set her apart from all the other dumb cunts. They could kind of pass off for freckles in the right light too. At least that's what I used to tell her when she got really fucking insecure. She was my brown eyed fucking beauty and she helped me through some difficult shit.

Fucking Christ, I'm about to see her again. The closer I get to her address the more convinced I am that Michael was telling the truth. Geraldine was fucking insane and she was totally fucking crazy about me. My temper was just too fucking quick for my own good. I should've fucking known better. I should've known that this was just one of those schemes she always cooked up to keep me out of trouble. I think about the letters she wrote me. I just burned those fuckers when they showed up in the mail. I should've fucking read them. Jesus, what if she was trying to tell me the truth?

I pull off the highway, any fucking minute now and I'll be at her fucking doorstep. This is a nice neighborhood. I had expected something a hell of a lot trashier for Geraldine. Shit, for all I know she could be married to a rich dude with a full head of hair and a fat cock. It's the middle of winter, snow is clinging to the road and it just reminds me of why I hate North fucking Yankton. Jesus, why did she never get out of here? I know this isn't where she wanted to end up. Fuck, she probably would've loved Sandy Shores. As I turn down another street, it occurs to me that I didn't really think about what I was going to say. Fuck, what am I suppose to say? Oh hey, Momma, long times no see, by the way is what Michael said true? Did you really ask him to make you look like a lying fucking cunt so I could walk free?

Cookie cutter condos are spread out on either side of me. They all have the same vanilla paneling and snow covered roofs. The robotic voice from the GPS tells me I've reached my destination and I bring the car to stop. I survey the condo in front of me as I listen to the dull rumble of the car's engine. Well, so much for the theory about her getting with a rich guy. Jesus, it's just a typical fucking winter day in North Yankton and I'm about to come roaring right back into this crazy bitch's life. I look at myself in the rear view mirror. Shit, I'm a good looking guy but I'm not the man she remembers. I got a lot less fucking hair now and shit load more wrinkles. I'm still hot though. I'd fuck me. Why do I even care what she fucking thinks of me anyway?

I climb out of the car. The winter air nips at my nose and I watch my breath come out like a cloud of fog. I do not fucking miss the cold. I do not miss fucking shoveling the snow off my driveway either. I am so fucking glad to be out of this shit hole. I don't even know how human fucking beings survive out here. Oh that's right, they smoke a shit ton of meth and fuck like rabbits. I feel like I should be more nervous. I mean it's been a while, it's going to be fucking awkward, shit, she might hate me. I don't know what to expect. I walk up the icy path to her front door. Shit, there's no going back now. If this doesn't go well I can always just kill her I guess.

I knock on the door and stand out in the cold like a fucking idiot. My heart starts to race when I hear the locks in the door clicking as they come undone. The door creaks as it opens and I feel like all the air in my lungs has been sucked right fucking out of me. She's absolutely gorgeous. I don't mean to be dick, but she still doesn't hold a candle to Patricia. She's still just so fucking gorgeous though. She's a little plumper than she used to be and she's got delicate wrinkles spread out across her face. She's sagging in places that used to be firm but I don't fucking care. She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now. She's got a nice fucking weave too, looks like some really expensive shit. Her mouth hangs open and she looks me up and down.

Shit, this is why I should've thought of something to fucking say. I'm not going to smile or give her a hug. This is way too fucking awkward for that shit.

"T-Trevor?" Geraldine says.

Her voice sounds like she's terrified. Why is it that everyone always sounds terrified when I show up at their fucking house after not seeing them for two fucking decades?

"Hey, Momma," I say.

I say it as if no time has passed at all. She just stands there staring at me like a fucking idiot.

"Are you gonna fucking let me in so we can talk or are you going to leave me out here to fucking freeze to death?" I growl.

Geraldine nods and steps to the side to let me in. As I brush past her, I remember just how fucking much I tower over her. It's hard to imagine that such a tiny little thing can pack such a fucking wallop when she's pissed.

"Did you get my letters?" She asks.

She sounds nervous as she asks me. I hear her close the door behind me.

"I didn't- you wrote me?" I lie.

I take off my puffy black coat and toss it on the floor. I know that shit used to bug the fuck out of her. From the looks of this place it still fucking does too. It doesn't even look like someone lives here. She barely has any furniture and the carpets are fucking spotless. I have to admit, it's nice to see that's she still a little fucking crazy. She ushers me into the living room before I can get very far.

"You should uh-sit," she stammers.

Jesus, Geraldine, you don't have to be so fucking awkward. I flop down in her white recliner. It's pretty fucking comfortable. I survey the room. She's got pictures on the wall, a fuck load of them, but from over here I can't really see the people in them. Watching her hips sway as she crosses the room already is giving me a fucking semi. Does she realize she's still got me by the balls? She takes a seat on the couch. She looks like a little fucking dove.

"So-uh—how are things?" I ask.

Well, I thought seeing Michael again was an awkward fucking situation but this one certainly has fucking beaten that within the span of ten minutes.

"I'm good," Geraldine says. "H-how are you?"

She was never really a fan of this small talk shit. She always wanted to get right to the point. I'm surprised she's playing along. I am obviously the last fucking person on earth she ever expected to turn up on her doorstep.

"Honestly?" I say. "A little fucking confused. That's why I'm here. Michael—it's a long story but Michael told me some things."

She starts kneading her hands in her lap. She always did that shit when she was nervous; I can't help but smile seeing her do it now.

"Do you hate me?" Geraldine asks. "Fuck, I don't—I don't know what he told you even—I just, I just wanted to protect you so I told him to lie—"

Jesus, she's a wreck. Her voice cracks as she speaks and her eyes are starting to glisten with tears. Hot piss, Michael was telling me the truth.

"I don't hate you," I say. "I mean I did for a while. Well, for a long fucking time but-not now."

She still won't stop kneading her hands. I just want to leap across the room and slap her to get her to stop. I don't have the right to do that anymore. Besides, there's a good chance she'd just deck me right back.

"I didn't have a choice," Geraldine explains. "My lawyer wanted me to testify against you and I wasn't going to do that to you. I wasn't going to put you behind bars again. But, Trevor—"

"But nothing," I say. "Shit, I forgive you and all that horseshit."

I watch her grind her thumb into her knuckles for about two more seconds before I can't take it anymore.

"Can you calm your fucking tits?" I snap. "Let's not make this anymore fucking awkward than it already is. I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry that I hated you. You're sorry that you lied. So, what fucking still has your panties in a bunch?"

Geraldine takes in a few deep breaths. Every time she exhales she grows calmer. She takes a few more moments to collect herself. I'm just utterly fucking confused. I don't get what the big fucking deal is. Honestly, I was kind of hoping we'd go screw after this. It was a long fucking drive, I'm freezing my balls off and she's still hot as fuck.

"You have a son," Geraldine says.

"What?" I say.

She stands up and plucks a photo off the wall. I yank it from her hand. It's in a simple black frame. I have no words for how I feel as I look at it. It's a kid in fucking dress blues and he has my fucking face. I mean yeah he's got that whole mochacinno thing going on but there is no fucking doubt about it. He has my fucking face. I look back at Geraldine, tears are streaming down her round cheeks.

"I tried to tell you," Geraldine explains. "I couldn't find you and when I wrote you-well, you said you never got those letters. I just gave up after a while. I thought you didn't care."

What a crock of shit. Of course I fucking care. Jesus, he has to be fucking twenty or some shit by the looks of this. Shit, I'm a father. I'm a fucking father. I spent so many fucking years thinking I was all alone in this world and that not a single person gave two fucks about me. But I had a fucking family this whole fucking time and I had no idea.

"Wh-what's his name?" I stammer.

"I named him Ryan, after your brother- I thought you'd want that," Geraldine says.

Shit, she's right. I reach up and grab her hand without thinking. She flinches at first but then I feel her muscles relax beneath my fingertips. I just can't take my eyes off of this photo. I missed his whole fucking life. I missed everything. He's a fucking man already. All because I was a dumb fucking shit who was too pissed off to open up his mother's letters.

"That's a picture from his graduation," Geraldine says. "He finished flight school."

Damn straight, just like his old fucking man, except well I got kicked out. He managed to fake his way through the psyche exam I guess. Good on you, Ryan.

"Did he know that I—" I begin.

"Yeah," Geraldine says. "I told him his father was the finest pilot the Air Force ever had."

She would build me up like that to him wouldn't she?

"He's getting married in the spring," Geraldine adds. "You'd like his fiancé, he's a nice boy. He's an airplane mechanic."

"He's gay?" I say. "I'm cool with that. I'm a modern fucking dude. I'm hip with that shit."

She laughs. Holy fuck, I missed that sound. I missed her. I missed her so fucking much. And I fucking missed him. I didn't even know he existed but I'm mourning all the time I fucking lost with him. I want to know everything there is to know about him. I want to know his favorite fucking color, what beer he likes to drink, what music he listens to. Every goddamn fluffy ass thing.

"Where's he stationed?" I ask.

I feel her lean in closer to me. She rests her head on my shoulder so she can gaze at the photo clutched in my hand. I welcome the contact from her. We made this. Holy fucking shit, we made this.

"Fort Zancudo. It's near Los Santos." Geraldine says.

I drop the picture on the ground. I grab Geraldine by the waist and pull her onto my lap. I close my mouth over hers and shove my tongue between her juicy fucking lips. She goes rigid but it doesn't take her long before she's kissing me too. Her mouth still tastes the same. Just like bubble gum and stale cigarettes. I'm so fucking happy. It's as if a boat load of Mexican hookers were dumped on my door step with a mountain of crystal.

"You dumb fucking bitch," I laugh. "That's right next door to me. That's right fucking next door."

She starts laughing through the tears streaming down her face. Fuck, she's so beautiful.

"You live in San Andreas?" Geraldine asks.

"I sure fucking do," I declare. "And you're coming home with me."

She can't stop laughing and I can't fucking stop either. I have a fucking family. I have a successful fucking business, a handsome son and three million dollars in my bank account. What the fuck else could a man want in his miserable fucking life? Sure it's a little fucking crazy, okay, so a whole lot of crazy but what fucking isn't anymore?

"Will you?" I beg. "I want to see him. I want to go right now. Come with me, let's be a family. I fucking love you."

She traces her fingers along the tattoo on my neck. Her touch makes goose bumps erupt across my flesh.

"You still love me?" Geraldine asks.

She must still be insane because she should know the answer to that question.

"I already fucking said so, you dumb old bat," I tease.

She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in for another kiss. Shit, a fuck might be nice before we leave. I feel like that kid in the Air Force again as I grope her fantastic fucking ass. She pushes me away and gasps for breath.

"I'm too old for this bullshit," Geraldine sighs.

I pull her back to me and brush my lips along the curve of her neck.

"Momma, you'll never be too old for me," I say.


End file.
